


Fire Within, and Sky Above

by Agrippa, baeconandeggs



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Elder Scrolls Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - How to Train Your Dragon Fusion, Alternate Universe - Magic, Courting Rituals, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Genderfluid, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality, Implied Mpreg, Light Angst, M/M, Mating, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Oviposition, Past Character Death, Self-Lubrication, Shapeshifting, Skyrim References, Slow Burn, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 10:58:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 30,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19083646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agrippa/pseuds/Agrippa, https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeconandeggs/pseuds/baeconandeggs
Summary: He'd defied all the odds, in a world entirely unforgiving to his kind- watching, as all he knew was turned to rubble, and his species was hunted to the brink of extinction. He'd outlived his kin, but he couldn't say with conviction that he was truly living- he was barely even surviving.  Unbeknownst to him, he'd find his missing heartbeat again- in what he'd believed to be the impossible, with eyes, as clear and cold as ice, scales as white as snow, and teeth and talons capable of crumbling stone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** BAE432  
>  **Disclaimer: baeconandeggs/the mods is/are not the author/s of this story. Authors will be credited and tagged after reveals.** The celebrities' names/images are merely borrowed and do not represent who the celebrities are in real life. No offense is intended towards them, their families or friends. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this fictional work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
>   
> 
> **Author's Note:** Firstly, I'd like to give a HUGE thank-you to my (super last minute) beta, and close friend, for getting me through this fest- it's certainly been a struggle, this time around. Secondly, another huge thank you to the mods for BAE 😭 youve all been more than accommodating and I'm so so thankful for it. 
> 
> Onwards, to the story- the prompt was pretty specific, but as it's wont to, my mind got away on me- this was meant to originally be a HTTYD AU, but... Well, with a prompt involving dragons, I couldn't help but fuse it with the lore of TES, specifically Skyrim. All in all, I feel as though it made for a much more interesting story than I'd have otherwise been able to write- alongside a much, much longer one. To my prompter, though this is likely not what you expected, I do hope you manage to enjoy it all the same. ♥️
> 
> I hope you all enjoy my story for BAE 2019, ""Fire Within, and Sky Above.""

As the thunder rolled, the wind howled. Visibility cut by frequent snow squalls, formed by the blizzard raging violently throughout Silvermoore hold. 

The wooden walls of a small cottage did little to insulate the interior- instead, a roaring fire situated in its center sourced it's heating, keeping the bite of the cold air at bay; albeit, only temporarily. Sitting at the very back, upper-tier of the capital, just atop the shelter the large mountain range overlooking the city provided, his lodge bore the worst of it, creaking, screeching precariously. Besides that, though, there was only deafening silence to accompany him- but that was the price he paid, living so inconspicuously. For all intents and purposes, on any birth registry or record known to man, ceasing to exist entirely. 

But while the weather of Diresong was entirely unforgiving, the residents were a lot kinder, and, thankfully, a lot warmer by extension. He had acquaintances- not-quite-friends, but they made for good neighbors, who were equally as good at minding their business, and subsequently, perhaps most importantly… Staying _out_ of his. 

The hushed whispers of fantastical creatures long gone extinct, of sightings of gargantuan beasts who breathed air and exhaled smoke, with teeth sharp enough, jaws strong enough to crush stone, were not lost on him- rather, they had been the catalyst for his reluctant reclusiveness. As a creature not designed to live in seclusion for any noteworthy measure of time, he couldn’t help but feel as though he were slowly withering away. As someone who had an overabundance of time, he could attest to the fact that it wasn’t at all treating him kindly- alone, bored, the light within him growing dimmer with each passing day. 

It hadn’t always been such- rather, the opposite. He could recall clearly a magnificent time where his kind was free to roam, free to soar through the skies without fear of humans. Where he had nestmates, and both a mother and sire. Where his species resided on mountain-tops, territory free of obstructions or constructs which allowed for flight. The beginning of the Merethic era, presiding the era of Dawn, was said to have had been something beautiful to behold. 

When mortals had first made their appearance in the world, hailing from a continent due north of Tamriel, near the throat of the world and beyond the ghost sea, lands now long turned desolate and uninhabitable, dragons had been revered. Feared- the population largely kept enthralled and obedient through means of a widespread cult which worshipped their kind. The passiveness, of course, couldn't remain, when it was the Priests of that very cult who were driven mad with their power over fellow man- malevolence festering within them like a cancer as they inflicted upon men their tyranny. 

As they always would, no matter the circumstances, how dire the consequences, how imminent the danger, nor the likelihood of resulting mortalities, man rose up- the mutual cause uniting tribes, races, cities, and provinces alike- marking the start of a war against their Dragon Overlords. A noble quest, yet one that would come to be realized in no time as an exceedingly hopeless, and foolish one. 

For where thousands would fight, thousands would soon fall in their place- morale ever dwindling with the belated realization that the very creatures they’d waged war against, were no mortal beings- both untouched by age, or the effects of time, and unable to be slain by simple human weaponry, nor the primitive, destructive magics of fire, frost, and shock, which paled starkly in comparison to the abilities possessed by the gargantuan beasts themselves; the source of their power, of their presumed indestructibility; their voices. Slow, drawling incantations. An ancient form of magic- powerful, but heavily obscured by the vale of time. 

There were countless interpretations about what had, precisely, transpired to finally bring the end to the wretched war. The Nordic folk would say that it had been The Goddess of the storm, Mother of Men, Kyne, who’d taken pity upon mankind and called upon none other than the second in command to the terrible World-Eater, Alduin, himself, who betrayed his former Master, and alongside several other dragons, would bestow upon man the ability to fend for themselves; Instructing them in the ways of “The Voice,” using Thu’ums, Words of Power, phrases from their own native, draconic tongue, thus enabling them to finally fight back against their Immortal oppressors. 

While The Old One, Paarthurnax, amongst his own kind and now humankind alike, would firmly profess otherwise- stating that it had, in fact, been the World-Eater’s false claim to Godhood that had brought him to turn against his Master and older brother. 

And so, it came to be that man would rise up again- only this time, they would be met with success and fortune- prevailing and soon banishing the tyrannical World-Eater from their world as they knew it. Sealing him in another plain of existence entirely, where he could no long rain terror down upon theirs. 

But inevitably, the time where his kind could roam free, in all its magnificence and glory, had vanished with scarcely a trace- marking the end of an era in which the reign of the colossal, scaled reptilian beasts, once revered and worshipped by the ancient Nordic people, came to an abrupt end. Those which remained would be forced into hiding, into seclusion on lands far out of reach from mankind. Population scattered, decimated. Hunted to their presumed extinction. 

Ultimately, it hadn’t mattered whether or not those few which still remained posed a substantial threat to man as individuals; as sentient, feeling, and exceedingly wise beings. The Imperial order would say that they couldn’t take the risk of another uprising- that their quest wouldn’t end until every last dragon was vanquished from their world. 

But he’d preyed witness to just how “necessary,” and “noble,” their cause proved to be, when even the young, defenseless creatures, dragon hatchlings, who couldn’t yet even speak or fly, were targeted- spared no mercy, spared no thought; regarded as little more than mindless beasts, than monsters. Than trophies. Kills that would be boasted about for years, decades to come. 

He could only watch, sadly, through his veil of a humanoid guise, as all he had come to know and love, fell into ruin- his own world, his origin story, reduced to near nothingness- turned into legend, into myth, manifesting in the form of human writings and elaborate, fictitious stories and lighthearted songs; rather than having the proof laid out before him as he had once had. 

It had been centuries, eras which long passed in a blur of monotony and solitude for those few which remained- living each day with the dim hope of finding one another, of their loneliness and pain being brought to cessation- they couldn’t die, not by natural means- not unless they were slain like their brothers before them. Some would be driven into insanity in their solitude; once peaceful, passive creatures, losing their cause, their drive, their motivations to carry on, to live- taking flight, with man inevitably tracking and locating them shortly thereafter, before, too, bringing their sad, lonely chapters to a close. Unbeknownst to the majority- in doing so, they were, in fact, showing the mad creatures mercy- by then having long yearned for a death which would finally come. 

He’d seen that, too- those which were weak of mind, or were old, mentally vulnerable and susceptible to losing their sense of self and purpose. 

It was a sad sight, to witness his brethren fall so ungracefully- minds deteriorating, consciences dissipating; mere shells, shadows of their former selves. Being contained, confined for so long, was damaging- even in shared company. They’d forget even their own names, slowly, painfully, and tragically transforming into the very mindless beasts that the world depicted them to be. 

A sudden, particularly loud clap of thunder shook him from his reverie- blinking heavily, tiredly, having grown distant whilst gazing into the flame blazing above the hearth before him. With the rumors going around, such had become the norm- spending hours in relative silence, reminiscing over centuries long past, with only his own shadow for company. 

He was a sentimental creature by nature- perhaps, it was his weakness. His curse, as it would be that same sentiment which had, and which always would, proceed to fuel him, giving him hope that his days of loneliness would pass. He’d always been a dreamer, always been emotional- something not at all unheard of for his kind, though perhaps more commonly deemed to be signs of extreme weakness, of mental fragility and vulnerability. 

The fact that he still stood, where many others had fallen, would suggest otherwise- would suggest that it was, in fact, those same ‘weaknesses’ which drove him. Sentimental values, emotions, and dreams; keeping his brain stimulated, and his heart and mind intact by allowing him to grasp onto the thin strings of hope which still dared to remain. 

As a unique subspecies which possessed the ability to shed their skins to take on a more inconspicuous form at will, he had a fortunate advantage- shifting into a bipedal, fleshy avatar enabled him to pass by under the radar virtually undetectable- the only flaw in that being that there were some tells, some unique traits which remained- like the large expanses of smooth, iridescent black scales covering his forearms, parts of his hands, neck, and legs, and fingertips which extended into blackened, talon-like claws. Feet which… Barely even bore a resemblance to human feet- reptilian, with only four toes, and a dew-claw extending from the top of each heel. 

His horns were more easily obscured- lost in a nest of inky black strands, wavy and extending past his pointed ears- but still, present if one were to feel around his scalp. 

As a wholly magical being, a more convincing humanoid shape was, too, possible for him to take on- but not without immense strain- not as an ability which needed to continuously be channeled in order to be maintained. The amulet strung around his neck, tucked safely beneath his tunic, aided him in his capacity to do so- but in his age, in his experience, in his many battles and confrontations with both his own kind and even humankind, once, as a young, ill-tempered dragon- his abilities and strength no longer were as they once had been so very long ago. 

He couldn’t refute that he now only stood in a mere shadow of his former greatness- weakened by continuously maintaining his corporeal form- but such was the cost of living. 

Though, his definition of the term “Living,” was quite subjective. 

A glance around the darkened room, with the hearth’s flame slowly dying out without any wood having been added to keep it burning, and he exhaled a long sigh, wincing as he made to stand- shoulders slumped as he all but dragged himself up the stairs to retire for the night. 

He was capable of a great many things, feats which were entirely unheard of among men, yet he couldn’t even go so far as to effectively delude himself into believing that this… This “life,” of his, that he’d held onto so despairingly after all these centuries, even bore resemblance to what ‘life’ really was meant to be. 

He sighed as he sat back on his bed- peering out the window, watching as the snow fell past it, obscuring anything that may have been worth seeing. 

What he was doing…. Wasn’t living. 

And it _hadn’t_ been living, for far too long for him to even trace. 

He was simply… Surviving- and scarcely, at that. 

What was the objective? He couldn’t help but ponder, as he laid back in bed, wrapping the linens around his form. He’d never done well in the cold- ironic, considering he’d chosen to live in such an unforgiving, scathingly cold climate. 

As he waited for sleep to claim him, he asked himself the same question he’d asked himself each night, for as long as he could remember. 

For him… Was there truthfully, honestly anything worth living for any longer? Anything worth holding onto? What did he have? What could he ever even hope to achieve? 

It had become achingly apparent, that this was simply a long, lonely, and painful decline- and in waiting for something that couldn’t, wouldn’t ever occur, he was only prolonging his own demise. He’d had a good, long run- a long, long life, outliving all of his nestmates, outliving almost his entire species. 

He couldn’t dare hope there was even a semblance of truth to the rumors being spread around- he’d been there before, been hopeful, only to have his heart crushed when he found that they’d only been precisely that; mere rumors. He wasn’t a pessimist, but nor could he afford to cling onto falsehoods. 

In the end, he was simply tired. 

Tired, of remaining optimistic. 

Tired, of waiting for a day which would realistically never come. 

Tired, of hiding. Tired, of waking up each morning with the realization weighing over his head that he was, quite easily, the last of his unique kind in habitance of all of Tamriel, or even just one single minute, one hour, one day, nearer to being the final Dovah still standing in the entirety of Nirn. 

Four lightning strikes in quick succession, punctuated his train of thought- once more interrupting the sequence of his pessimism and lamenting over a time long past which he had fallen an unfortunate victim to- as if to protest. At the thought, he couldn’t help but crack a small smile, staring longingly out the window- finding a reprieve in the temporary silence of his own mind. 

“That method would be even more effective if it stopped _snowing_ for once,” He murmured, amused by his own antics, and by the notion- he was apparently even readily talking to the sky, now. 

Of course, he hadn't expected the sky to answer him _back_. 

He _could_ have chalked it up to mere coincidence, _could_ have pretended that he hadn't heard anything out of the ordinary and gone to bed, as he'd intended, with little else to occupy his mind or time. 

But as it was wont to, his curiosity reared its head- drawing him closer, _closer_. 

And like a moth to a flame, he was tethered. 

It was a deafening, distant screech which solidified his fate; pulling on his thickened furs and cured leathers with the immediate intent of braving the brutality of the deathly cold storm, still raging just beyond the thin walls of where he'd come to call not his home, but his place of reluctant dwelling. 

A resounding thud, with the creaking, snapping, and crashing of what he could only presume were entire trees following as something massive hit the forest floor, directed him- despite going against his better judgement. Why put himself in danger? Why purposefully place himself in harm's way? 

Maybe, it was on a whim. Maybe he was just so, so dreadfully unstimulated and secluded, that any opportunity presenting itself so boldly would suffice- despite, or perhaps, _in spite_ of the risks involved. 

He couldn't see more than two feet before him, but the sounds of which could only depict an intense struggle, increasingly more desperate, were more than enough to guide his way- squinting in and attempt to make out something, anything, other than falling snow or the ground underfoot. 

Stifled, dampened by the snowstorm he'd caught himself in, the definitive scent of blood still tinged the air- combined with what he could only describe as despair and pain. 

And then, the softest of cries- a defeated, garbled whimper. A quiet plea, not wholly unlike a prayer. A prayer for what? He'd yet to discern. Yet still he found his pacing altered, as though an involuntary response- something primal, dark, within him rising up from the recesses of his idle bestial mind. 

The audible struggle ceased only shortly thereafter- leaving only the howling of the harsh, unforgiving winds and the soft crunching of his own footfalls in the crisp, freshly fallen snow, to accompany him. Travelling blind, his hurried pace slowed- exercising caution in his approach, still entirely too unaware of what laid in store for him, and in the danger lying ahead. 

Strained, labored breathing had his eyebrows furrowing- loud, resonating, ragged. Injured, and most definitely plagued by exertion; the most likely cause being a pursuit, an extended chase, with the bitter, definitive stench of fear tinging the air. The cries had been too pitched, and far too reptilian, to belong to either a mammoth or a bear. 

The telltale signs all pointed to one, singular, one plausible thing, but he couldn’t risk believing it. 

He didn’t _want_ to believe it. 

As luck would have it, the then still unidentified creature spotted him before he could make out even his silhouette- a sharp screech piercing his ears, followed by the intense scuffling of something heavy, tossing and turning in an attempt to dislodge itself from its bindings. Ensnared, likely by a weighted netting- explaining it's rather ungraceful, and seemingly sudden and wholly involuntary descent; having fallen right out of the sky only moments prior. As though having been shot down. 

An incandescent purple-blue sphere, irradiating light and rapidly growing in intensity, had his eyes widening in shock- just barely able to identify the attack and dive out of the way in time to avoid the white-hot blast being pinpointed directly towards him- an uncontrolled shot of plasma splitting through the air and exploding violently upon impact with the trunk of a tree standing just some few meters behind where he was sprawled out on the snow-covered ground- alert, ears pressed back against his scalp. It hadn't just been a warning, then, he concluded. 

Rather, the hasty, instinctual attack of a cornered wild animal. He was a threat, he gauged, rethinking his approach. Usually, he exercised more caution, more tact- but he could reason that it was hard to be tactful or strategic when you could hardly see anything in front of you, let alone the very thing you were meant to be tactful in the presence of. 

He chanced a glance towards the hole burnt cleanly through the center of the unfortunate tree- heart racing, hair standing on end. That could have been _him_ , he realized- _he_ could have had a big, cauterized hole burnt right through his midsection, if he hadn’t dodged quickly enough. He was struck with a sudden and innate sense of familiarity, as he mulled the details over in his head. Presenting itself as an itch, a distinct nagging feeling at the forefront of his mind. 

With a deep inhale, he rolled into a crouch before chancing a phrase in his native tongue, three short words of power, beneath his breath- quiet enough to not be heard, but carefully enunciated. “ _Kaan Drem Ov_ ,” breathing a low sigh of relief when the sounds of struggling seemed to cease again somewhere before him. Instead, soft, inhuman whimpering could be just barely made out- and he moved quickly, now without hesitation. He hadn’t braved the storm, and a subsequent near-death experience, with the intent of standing around idly and waiting for someone, or _something_ else to show up. 

Blindly, he stepped forward- once more attempting to make out something, _anything,_ beyond the relentless, pelting snow and the thick shroud of night. 

With the exception of vivid crimson standing out in sharp contrast, the creature could have easily blended right into its surroundings- shiny, reflective skin the purest of white, matching even the blanket of fresh snow beneath it's prone form. 

Entangled in a crude netting, with weighted metal hooks meant to ensnare and anchor it firmly in place, it was clear that the creature had, in fact, been purposefully hunted and shot down. Likely not harboring the intent to _kill_ it, but to perhaps seriously injure it all the same. 

But the broken arrows, embedded painfully into it's thick hide, told him of another story entirely- hunters which were reckless, then. Caring not about preserving it's life, and only about stopping the creature; no matter the expense. 

His natural empathy came before his curiosity- the animal was in pain, drained, and physically and emotionally exhausted, just barely retaining it's feeble grasp on consciousness, mighty chest heaving with each rattling breath, exhaling noisily through its nose as narrowed, icy blue eyes distrustfully traced his every movement. 

But a certain degree of inquiry remained present all the same- because just before him, laid the impossible. Before him, laid what had for so long been but a faraway dream, something he’d yearned to find for _centuries._ Not only belonging to his own kind, the Dovah, but a close variation of his own _species_ , no less. 

Imagine: A dragon, dark as night, swift and silent, deadly and striking, only _different_ \- as though inverted, white as snow, light as day, able to effectively render itself invisible by flying through its own flames, rather than simply being virtually indistinguishable beneath a black sky. 

A genetic permutation of what had, perhaps, once been named after it's coloration and temperament- 𝔑𝔬𝔰𝔳𝔲𝔩𝔫𝔞𝔥, striking fury of the night. With the variant conversely being 𝔑𝔬𝔰𝔧𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔞𝔥, striking fury of the _light._

To presume it was truly the last of its kind, wouldn't be a stretch. But perhaps he'd finally gone mad in his extended solitude, he mused to himself shortly thereafter. Or perhaps it was simply too dark for him to make out any further defining features that would disprove his initial conclusion. 

He held his tongue, not wanting to risk aggravating, or startling the creature any further, instead laying a hand on it’s side in an attempt to soothe the beast, thinking carefully over the next best course of action. 

Namely, to relocate the creature to somewhere more private, more secluded, where it could go undetected- protective, and survival instincts now on high alert. Hide, then tend, he mentally recollected, something ingrained into him over the course of time. 

“ _𝔇𝔯𝔢𝔪…_ ” He whispered, softly- the Dov’s eyes flying open in recognition of the phrase- huffing a loud breath through its nostrils- ears flattening against it’s large cranium; pacified, seemingly. 

For where dragons said little aloud, the words they _did_ utter could speak entire volumes on their own- able to relay context, and feeling, with just a single expression, a mere few syllables. 

_Be calm, be at peace,_ was what the single word conveyed. _I know what you are, and you won’t be hurt by me._ It was the closest thing to safety, closest thing to assurance, that he could offer in his own vulnerable, fleshy form. Words could mean very little to dragons in comparison to actions, in comparison to thoughts- but the fact that the beast’s wavelength was entirely imperceptible, or perhaps wholly inactive, told him that the creature had, and for some time, already been weakened by an outlying force. For the time being, it would have to suffice. Carefully, he maneuvered around the large beast to disentangle it from it’s bindings- cutting away the ropes to free it, and carelessly discarding them as he worked. 

With the task completed, he rose from the ground and silently beckoned for the creature to follow him, and he could only sigh in faint exasperation when it simply spared him one single, drawn-out, almost disdainful, glance- bordering on incredulity alongside extreme doubt. 

Despite having originally intended to maintain his silence for as long as possible, he deemed breaking said silence appropriate; He couldn’t honestly say he’d expected his insistence and sincerity alone to be enough to sway the dragon. Having spent so much time alone in solitude, he’d, truthfully, nearly forgotten that his own kind were largely all skeptical by nature. And not unreasonably so- he’d done nothing to truly indicate that he was trustworthy, or that his intentions were even good in nature. For all it knew, he could have intended to lure him right into a trap, or directly into the hands of the imperial bastards. Trust couldn’t come easy- not when you were equally as hated as you were feared by the world’s population at large. When you had a rapidly incurring bounty over your head, a death warrant looming over you. 

Truthfully, the fact that they were of the same kind, held no real weighting at all- if anything, that only gave the creature further incentive to doubt him. Humans were dangerous, truly, but there was a distinct reason for which dragons had come to strike terror into the hearts of both beast and mankind alike; it couldn’t be chalked up to simple legend, nor tall tales. 

The first, and perhaps most important, key to ones continued survival, was one very simple rule- one rule, one which could be so easily obscured over time, or overwritten by emotion; trust _no one,_ or run the risk of finding yourself slighted by the person from which you’d least expect. 

It was with that thought in mind, that Chanyeol carefully deliberated over his next words. 

“I have a shop, not far from here- there's a forge inside, and it's sheltered off. You can stay there, to keep warm- and if you'll allow me, we'll get these wounds looked after. You have no reason to trust me, but, you won't last long out here. Not like this. You'll need to take a risk.” 

No response. 

“You can leave come morning, though I'd strongly advise against it- but you can't stay out here, in any case. If the imperials don't come for you, the wolves _will_. Allow me to shelter you,” he tried, more softly. “Please.” he continued, a little more weakly. 

Something… Something in his tone, was enough for the creature to rethink its situation- releasing a pained sound as it unsteadily climbed to its feet. 

“Easy, now,” He murmured, resisting the urge to stroke a hand along it’s side to comfort it, like he would an _actual_ animal, or a much younger dragon. For all he knew, the creature could have easily been older than him, technically- but, as for all dragons, for all _immortal_ beings _,_ at some point, _time_ became relative- not so simply defined by the years, or by the hours passed. 

“We’ll go slowly- just, stay behind me,” He waited for a sound of recognition, coming in the form of a discontented grumble at the prospect of a _human_ giving it orders, before advancing- slow and steady, mindful of the injuries the creature had sustained, and conscious of their surroundings. 

In the midst of the snowstorm, and in the dead of night, with not a single soul in sight to prey witness to their less than stealthy course, they made it, safely, to their destination without delay. The dragon stood idle and watched, seemingly unimpressed, as he struggled with the wrought iron crossbar latching the gates shut from the inside- the rusted metal hinges screeching in protest as he forced one of the two doors open- panting softly from the effort. He cracked a somewhat sheepish smile- the immediate area illuminated by the warm glow of the forge alight inside. 

Just as quickly, it fell- his eyes widening a fraction and lips parting as he was finally granted a clear view of creature before him. Suspecting… Was one thing. 

But _seeing,_ fully, with his own two eyes, for the first time in… How long? How long had it been, now, since he’d last been graced with such a magnificent sight? The Inverse of his own subspecies, both _alive_ , and _breathing_. A lightfury, in the flesh. He’d never admit, to getting choked up at the sight- momentarily needing to bow his head and clench his fists in an attempt to recollect himself again- confusion, and something like concern, written clearly across the creature’s face. 

As quickly as it had arrived, though, the moment was gone, the dragon’s stance shifting, leaning dangerously towards one side, with exhaustion and pain taking its toll on it’s weakened form, it’s eyes drooping- startling him into motion once more. He quickly moved out of the way to allow the creature to enter, breathing a sigh of relief once it made it past the threshold, enabling him to pull the heavy door shut before relatching it. 

Heavily, the lightfury slumped to the stone floor- releasing an audible sigh as it’s eyelids slid shut- visibly breathing, but depleted entirely of its energy- unconsciousness staking it’s inevitable claim. He couldn’t even begin to imagine, what the creature had gone through to put it in such a worn, haggard state- as immortal creatures, dragons didn’t age by natural means, but rather, from mental exhaustion and weakness. From lack of stimulation, and from having their magicka sapped away. Time hadn’t treated the creature well, he realized, the longer he stared, the closer he observed. 

Quickly, just as he’d intended, he got to work in dealing with the worst of it- the creature, thankfully, much too exhausted to wake as the minutes turned into hours. The task he'd taken on progressed slowly, tediously- his skilled, practiced hands working diligently and carefully. 

He could only grit his teeth and wince at the force he needed to exert to tear the arrows buried deeply in between it’s bloodied, dirtied, off-white and iridescent scales- relieved to find that they hadn’t penetrated too deeply into the soft tissue backing the layered, high-density plates. Mostly, it seemed, the damage was superficial- looking infinitely worse than it was in actuality. 

In their prime, light furies were sleek and pristine, made up of various shades of ivories and whites, scales highly reflective and nearly seamless in relation to one another, mimicking the appearance of scutes, rather than small, individual, overlapping plates. The creature before him, though, bore a seemingly different set of characteristics- scales dull and greyed, dirtied, lacking sheen- nor were they as white as he'd initially assumed they were. Chipped, and cracked, the keratin having broken down, weakening the overall tensile strength of each scale individually, and adding a certain degree of fragility, a brittleness, rendering them more prone to splitting and splintering apart upon impact. The edges of its wings appeared almost frayed, ragged, with thick, banded imprints marking its neck and ankles, allowing him to conclude that the creature had likely been bound, restrained in iron, for a great deal of time. 

He could only wonder, then, for just how _long_. 

There was certainly a point, even as immortal beings, where the damage could become irreversible- scales could mend, over time, could regain their signature, customary lustre- but the longer the creature suffered, the longer they were left in such a poor state, the longer it would take to reverse any such changes that may have taken place- any damage they'd incurred for the duration of their imprisonment or confinement. Provided it even _could_ be reversed. 

As it stood, only time would tell- he could only do his utmost best to ensure that the creature was both well looked after, and comfortable, for the duration it would remain in his care. He _had_ to do his best. 

With the iron key strung around his neck, he silently slipped out of his shop for the night and relocked the padlock attached to the door of the main entryway- ensuring no wandering Intruders or thieves could, in the unlikely case they even got anywhere close to his property, see themselves inside and risk stumbling upon the rather untimely guest he had stowed away there. 

His work would temporarily have to be put on hold, then, he reasoned- imposed upon by the fact that the size of the creature already covered most of the available floor space, making it hard to safely navigate, on top of rendering it to be a less than ideal storefront for his clients to visit for assistance with their smelting and smithing requirements. 

He could only hope that the Dov would recover quickly enough to soon scale itself down to a much smaller, much more humanoid form, enabling it to more easily blend in with the majority of society- or, more importantly, be a _guest_ in his actual _home,_ rather than act as a _thing_ that needed to be stowed away in his workshop in order to be concealed, shielded from inquisitive, prying, and ultimately _dangerous_ eyes, and the subsequent wagging tongues, fueled by the right amount of gold. 

  
¶ _𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 - 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔟𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡, 𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔬 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩 𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱 𝔢𝔣𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔱?_ ¶ 

  


Sleep was an ever elusive and fickle thing, he concluded with finality, just an hour after climbing back into his bed- too wound up, and too high strung to be able to get a wink of shut-eye. To be able to even _rest._ The irony of him originally not having even wanted to _leave_ his bed, some hours prior, was not lost on him- not when it was now quite possibly the _last_ place he wanted to be. There were far more important things that required his attention on the horizon, now. Things which he’d once seriously considered to be little more than an inane fantasy. 

And now, now that they were within his grasp, now that they were even, perhaps, _attainable-_ he couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ , let them slip through his fingers again. Silently, he vowed to do every possible thing in his power to keep that battered and weary creature safe- going so far as to even swear on his very own _life._ Perhaps that was just a testament to how lonely he really was- having barely even known _of_ the dragon existing, yet already being so selfless, so self-sacrificing. Or perhaps that really just went to show how little his own _life_ meant to him, now. So readily being willing to give it away for someone else. Someone he didn’t even know the _name_ of. 

If things went well, or even just _not_ completely terrible, then he would, he concluded. He’d learn everything there was to know- of course, he still knew such things were easier said than done. There was the potential for the creature to be completely distrustful of him, for the creature to not even so much as acknowledge him or his words- it wouldn’t come as a surprise, not as a creature that had been forcibly drained of its will, when it was that very ‘will’ it required to sustain it. 

The fact that he could even be near the creature without it lashing out at him, spoke volumes on it’s own, however. There was a high possibility that it could have long gone feral, could have lost its mind, it’s _soul_ , in what he presumed to be it’s extended captivity. If such had been the case, he wouldn’t have been able to reason with it. Wouldn’t have been able to speak to it, or help it. That, was a comforting thought in itself. A minute detail, but no easy feat or minor step 

Yet still, restless or not, the last thing he wanted to do was risk disturbing it- it needed it's rest, needed every ounce of shut-eye it could gather if it were meant to make a swift recovery. He couldn't allow his curiosity and eagerness to get the better of him- the morning would soon come, and _then_ he could get out of bed. 

Morning could scarcely arrive soon enough for his taste- tossing and turning restlessly throughout the night, until the sun rose up, peeking through the grey, overcast skies, dark clouds which had gradually cleared over the course of the night. What felt like a short eternity, was in actuality just a few hours- nothing, in comparison to the waiting game he’d already been playing for _centuries._ While it was true that time didn’t mean to dragons what it meant to mortals, the concept of ‘forever’ didn’t cease to exist entirely- represented clearly through short spells, the duration of time preceding moments that would be immortalized as vivid memories that would last their lifetime. Only time would tell, if those same memories would become happy ones, that one could look back upon fondly, or bitter ones that would leave an acrid, lingering sting for the decades, centuries, to come. He knew that taste, that sting, well- but he found difficulty in recalling when he’d last even made a remotely fond, or happy memory. It was with that thought at the forefront of his mind, deliberating his own loneliness and the resulting grief which had inevitably followed, that he extracted himself from his bed- moving to peer out his bedroom window, where he found the sun in the sky, and that the storm had dissipated. 

A beautiful day- and though not necessarily a warm or mild one, as such was only the nature of him living so far up north; it was the first beautiful day, in a long, long while. 

When the sun came near its highest position in the sky, with him having dressed and eaten in the hours prior, he set out for the day with a heavy metal bucket full of hot, soapy water in one hand, a clean washcloth in the other, and a hopeful heart- beating quickly, accelerating with the mere notion, the excitement of seeing his impromptu guest once again. 

Pausing, suddenly, at the door to the forge, he turned, eyes sweeping over the vicinity, narrow and hawklike- certain to proceed with only extreme caution, lest someone, somehow, somewhere, catch even the slightest glimpse of the creature now residing in his small shop, in which it was none-too-inconspicuously occupying the entire space. Upon unlocking the door, he slipped inside while opening it _just_ far enough to allow him to fit through. He knew, perhaps more than anyone, judging by the longevity of his life alone, that you could never, _ever,_ be too careful. 

It was only when the rusted hinges of the door squealed, signifying his re-entry that the dragon finally stirred from it’s deep, well-needed, and well-deserved slumber- more readily waking with the remembrance that he had, for some god-forsaken reason, allowed a _human_ to persuade him into entering and _remaining_ within the confines of the enclosed area for the night. It could easily have been a trap- and he'd been entirely at his mercy. Vulnerable, wounded, and completely and utterly exhausted. 

Yet still, something he couldn't quite grasp, couldn't quite explain, made him _want_ to be able to instill his trust into this mortal being which he didn't even yet know the name of. And perhaps, if he recovered quickly enough, he'd never even get the chance. Which only raised the question of; where was he meant to go? Where could he possibly go, and stay, to avoid suspicion, and to avoid being seen? The irony of being out in the middle of the open, and simultaneously being in the safest possible location he could be in right then, was not lost to him- serving as a deterrent to prevent him from acting impulsively or fleeing like he so badly felt he should. 

He huffed softly when the human slid the bar latch on the door shut to lock it in place- setting down something heavy with a metallic clang, before pushing up his sleeves. 

“May I touch you?” He tried, gently- a slight nod of the dragons head being the only permission he needed to do so. 

He set the bucket down near the creature before dropping into a crouch, soaking the cloth in the hot water and ringing it out until it was just damp, and then raising it to begin working at the stubborn mud and coagulated, dried blood encrusting it's pearly scales. Silently, he rubbed the cloth over the surface of the Dragon's thick, hard skin in steady circles, slowly but surely ridding it of the thick film of grime coating it's form to reveal the pristine white he was more familiar with, hidden just beneath it- a trait which alone made it's species so easily identifiable. 

And equally as sought after, by extension. While dragons _had_ developed attributes that enabled them to better blend into their surroundings to avoid detection, even _if_ one were to be virtually invisible to the naked eye under either the light of the sun or the dark of night- with the interference of human magic, those very same evolutionary adaptations could quite easily be nullified. 

It did indeed seem that dragons had vanished, but scholars, cultists, warlocks and priests- they’d only continued to thrive, abilities and teachings repurposed to better serve a more modern day society- given the opportunity to do so, regardless of moral standing, simply because of their mortal souls and fragile bodies. Dragons hadn’t been granted that opportunity. They’d been wiped out, as humanity had an always would continue to fear that which they couldn’t understand. 

Or, as he’d discovered over his many years living amongst humans- that which they didn’t _want_ to understand. 

One known living dragon, equal parts feared as he was revered, the same one which had turned the tides of the dragon war in the ages prior, by teaching worthy humans in the ways of the voice, borrowing them his own tongue, remained in Tamriel. But even though he’d saved humanity almost single handedly- after the atrocities he himself had allegedly committed and preyed witness to prior to him having turned against his former Master, even as a far more worthy hero than any of their mortal champions or paragons, he had been and forever would be condemned for possessing the soul and body of a dragon. 

Still, he lived a quiet, satisfactory life in complete solitude and meditation- retiring to the snowy peak at the throat of the world, where heaven was said to have once met earth- in an effort to overcome the innate lust for power which all dragons possessed to some degree; Left unchecked, and he was sure to revert to his old ways. There would always remain those which wanted to see him punished, wanted to see to his demise to ensure his terror would never again inflict damage upon humanity as it supposedly once had- but the monastic order residing at High Hrothgar, near his peak, dedicated to fulfilling and following a pacifist creed which vowed to ensure that the voice was not used for violence or evil, and only to worship and give glory to the Divines, protected him. 

A war hero, and yet still subjected to such a life, still the target of such outrageous accusations; this was the reality of the world they lived in. 

This was the reality which they’d forever be forced to endure and hide from. The reality which saw to mere hatchlings being uprooted and murdered in the same way which full-grown dragons were. As though they possessed no consciousness, as though they weren’t intelligent, sentient creatures with consciences of their own. 

The reality which had inevitably left him in isolation for so many decades he could no longer keep count. 

In no hurry, and with no prior obligations, he took his time, working carefully and gently around the areas which were raw or irritated- a frown on his face as he took note of every scar, every indentation, every missing scale- a dark and foreign feeling of possessiveness coming over him, boiling inside of him- protective, the more animal part of him wanting to act out in the creature’s defense- especially with the prevalent note that the dragon had completely and purposefully been deprived of its own ability to do so. 

That fact alone spoke of only one possible cause- the probability complemented by the sore state of its body. Even though dragons were, and always would be, immortal creatures; hand-crafted in the image of Akatosh himself, who was said to have possessed a similar physical form at one point in time, pre-dating the existence of man; their bodies, their corporeal forms, even being heavily armored, were not indestructible; for it was ultimately only their _souls_ which could, truly, live on for an eternity. 

Though he understood entirely that he’d receive no answer, he cleared his throat softly- voice a little hoarse from disuse. 

“You were held in captivity,” He murmured. It wasn’t a question. The dragon before him only made a soft sound of acknowledgement, clearly neither vehemently denying his conclusion or shaking its head in disagreement. 

“A Jarl’s hold?” He tried, again receiving no refutation. He wasn’t shooting in the dark; countless dragons had found themselves in similar positions after being weakened in battle- being held against their will in captivity, rather than being granted a quick and merciful death. The cruelty of man never ceased to amaze him. 

Most were killed after fulfilling their sole purpose as living proof of how mighty a warrior their captor was; even if they’d not even raised a single finger, but rather had court wizards do the work for them. With luxurious hides, and large, strong bones which served a multitude of uses; from alchemy, with potions and tonics, to spells and rituals, materials for armor, and even as a sort of good luck charm for warriors, they had plenty of reason to do so- immortalizing their feat in being able to mount entire dragon heads on their walls to boast of their alleged achievements and unrivalled strength. 

But the dragon before him hadn’t been met with what was, ironically, a much more fortunate fate than what it had been subjected to for countless decades… Perhaps, not unlike him, even centuries; a sad thought. That it hadn’t gone feral, was awe-inspiring, against all the odds… 

Unless, of course, it had something, or some _one_ to continue living for. Babies? A mate? A family out there, somewhere? His curiosity was surmounting- he looked forward to being able to actually communicate with the seemingly pacified creature. 

For the time being, yes or no questions would suffice. As a curious creature by nature, just sitting there in relative silence, when there was still so, _so_ much for him to ask, so much for him to discover, was arduous at best. 

“Was there… Something that kept you from losing your sanity?” He tried, wincing internally. A bit blunt, but how else was he meant to ask such a question? 

He didn’t receive a definitive answer, leaving him to guess for himself; so he continued to take the plunge. 

“Some… One?” Again, no response beyond large, ice-blue eyes narrowing in his direction. 

“Babies?” He echoed his internalized sentiment, raising his eyebrows when the Dragon gave what was very evidently a short, exasperated huff- not unlike he was scoffing at being asked such a question, as if it was really so unrealistic. 

In the period of extended silence and deliberating prior, he’d nearly finished his task in bathing the large creature- at least, to the best of his ability, given the confined space and limited resources readily available. How _did_ one bathe an entire, fully grown dragon? The most plausible answer was simply that you _didn’t._

“How about…” He trailed off, ringing out his cloth for the umpteenth time, “A mate?” 

The response that the simple, completely innocuous question earned, was startling to say the least- falling back flat on his ass with a soft noise of surprise as the large creature suddenly rose with a hiss, wings extending as far as they could in the shop, advertising what he could only assume to be it’s distaste, puffed up, defensive, with items which had previously been hung up on the adjacent walls or stacked on shelves, loudly clanging to the stone floor with the resulting gust of the swift movement- his bucket of, now dirty, lukewarm, soapy water, was not left unharmed- watching, pitifully, with his eyebrows furrowed and a frown on his face as it spilled all over the cold ground. 

He bit his tongue- holding back the very _human_ snark he felt encouraged to project in response- instead, he took a deep breath, and deflated, rising to his feet to silently put everything back where it belonged- face, and posture, not betraying anything. 

The dragon had sat back down only shortly thereafter- narrowed eyes tracking his movements, almost predatory, and definitely not without a noteworthy degree of suspicion. 

Finally, he sat back against the wall, directly opposite to where the Dragon was seated, and released a soft sigh before raising a hand to scrub at his eyes, stifling a yawn, a frown on his mouth as he thought of how to word his next, and quite possibly, this time, _final_ question. 

“Alright, you value your privacy. I can respect that, no harm intended,” He raised his hands in mock defense, slowly lowering them back down to his lap when the dragon’s eyes just narrowed in on his hands- entirely distrustful. 

He drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and settling his chin on top of them. “I just know that… Solitude doesn’t treat dragons well.” He was saying it in an effort to relate to the creature- but all it prompted was further suspicion. Unbeknownst to him, the dragon’s senses were entirely too dulled for it to even _realize_ that the _human,_ wasn’t, in fact, a _human_ at all- let alone that they were of the same kind. 

In the dragon's eyes, he was simply a human, asking far too many questions, who somehow also knew it’s points of weakness- and all that served to do was make him appear to be even more of a threat than it had initially concluded. Worse, yet, it was at said ‘humans’ mercy. 

He could pick up the queues, though- the dragon was weary, and reluctant to place trust in anyone, or anything- understandably so. Perhaps it had been betrayed one too many times. Perhaps it just hated everyone and everything, and had lost faith in the world. He couldn’t blame it for having done so- if any of that was true. 

He just hoped that he would have the time to gain it’s trust, if such a thing could ever happen. 

So he bit his tongue, reserving the final option for a later time, a time when he didn’t have an entire adult dragon staring him down looking like it wanted to tear into him. 

“You’re hungry,” He blurted, suddenly, the dragon appearing confused by the sudden switch in topics. He made to stand, nodding emphatically, “Yeah, you’re probably starving, huh? Okay. I’ll just…. I’ll go find you something, and I’ll be back as soon as I can- just, stay here, okay?” 

The creature looked unimpressed with the final part of what he’d said- and if he hadn’t known any better, he’d even have assumed that the dragon was _rolling its eyes_ at him. 

But in all honesty, where could it _possibly_ even go? When it couldn’t even open the door, let alone fit through the human-sized one. 

It dozed in his absence, stirring when the strong scent of blood filled it’s nostrils- not his own, and not human blood, but definitely, beyond a reasonable doubt, fresh _animal_ blood. 

The days which followed progressed in much the same fashion- minus the bathing, which Chanyeol silently vowed, after the incident that resulted in dirty, bloodied water spilling all over the floor of his shop, never to offer his help with again. 

_Unless,_ of course, it _was_ absolutely necessary. He’d just need to be sure not to set it off while doing so again. It had become clear in no time that the creature’s personal whereabouts were precisely that- _personal._ He’d hoped that, potentially, the creature would start warming up to him, but it was now, more so than even before, achingly apparent that the plausibility of that was next to nothing with the current state of affairs. Still, he knew better than to push- knew better than to let it get the better of him. He could be patient- he’d _been_ patient for centuries- what was another few weeks? Months? 

He just hoped that he’d get the chance to even make it that far. 

Once the dragon had recovered most of the way, there would be nothing stopping it from taking flight, and he wouldn’t, couldn’t, attempt to stop it from doing so. 

He’d been grounded for a long time, but he hadn’t been imprisoned, hadn’t been held in chains- for all intents and purposes, the dragon was not unlike a bird in a cage, which had never belonged in or wanted to be in a cage in the first place. 

In that regard, he himself had become complaisant in the domesticity of a quiet, human life- it was peaceful, it was safer than the alternative, but it was also so, so very, dreadfully lonely. 

The notion of resuming that pattern, that schedule, admittedly frightened him. Here he was, becoming reliant on a nameless creature that really didn’t seem to even _like_ him, for a reason he still had yet to discern- in it’s silence, the creature wasn’t exactly forthcoming with information- particularly since it really _couldn’t_ be. 

At least, not yet. 

But potentially... Not ever. 

He’d introduced himself- but without the ability to communicate, doing so had been a little bit redundant. Particularly since he _still,_ even well after a week, didn’t have a name to call it- nothing beyond the less than eloquent or creative, default title of ‘dragon.’ 

In addition, he didn’t have it’s pronouns parsed yet, either- as a largely genderless species, how they physically presented themselves as humans came down entirely to personal preference- and the last thing he wanted to do was run the risk of unwittingly insulting the creature _again,_ somehow. 

A large part of him felt like he was doing everything backwards, like he was so, so out of his depth. But another part of him was there to remind him of the fact that _all_ dragons relied on the ability to communicate with one another in order for meaningful bonds to develop- after all, when it came to familiarizing oneself with another, there was no _better_ way to do so then directly through the mind- thoughts, and feelings laid bare, without the necessity of verbalization, or of running the risk of omitting potentially vital details. In a lot of ways, he was still in the dark. Not physically alone, perhaps, but no _less_ lost or confused than he had been prior to their fateful encounter. 

After the haphazard routine they'd fallen into, even with the understanding and reluctant acceptance that the creature neither trusted, nor _liked_ him- there was nothing which could have ever prepared him- not already having lived a life in near complete solitude, nor the all-consuming loneliness he'd long become so intimately acquainted with, for the sheer devastation that would overcome him, the morning he entered the forge… 

And found that it was _empty_. 

  
¶ _𝔅𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰, ℑ 𝔯𝔬𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔨𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔗𝔞𝔪𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔩. ℑ 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢._ ¶ 

  


He had no title to call. No name to cry, and a humorless laugh rose up from somewhere within him- equal parts discomposed and disbelieving. Silently, he shook his head- his eyes must have somehow been deceiving him. The doors were shut, and the locks remained both intact and untampered with- he was sure of it, with his only keyring strung around his neck each night, having kept them even closer to him than he would have under normal circumstances; because it was no longer only his own secret he had to protect. 

He brought a hand up to scrub at his eyes, blinking heavily, squinting- opting to ignore the fact that the creature was virtually impossible for one to miss, especially in such a small, confined, and dim area such as this. He’d receive no response, if he were to call out- for the dragon couldn’t yet speak, couldn’t yet give an answer, even if it _were_ to be present, somehow, somewhere. 

Panic was not a sensation he was familiar with- feeling as though he had an immense, unshakable weight on his chest, and like he couldn’t even draw breath; completely and utterly foreign, alongside the persistent clenching of his heart. A very physical pain, yet only elicited by his own emotion. Perhaps, that was the price he paid for suppressing, and suppressing- shrugging off, shoving aside all of the accumulated hurt and emotional turmoil he’d endured through over the course of a life he’d been living for far too long. 

And all that it had taken, amidst all he’d suffered, amidst the eradication of his entire species as a whole, amidst the loss of family, the loss of loved ones, was for what had unwittingly become his one final, feeble shred of remaining hope to abruptly vanish from right under his nose, gone, taken, as though it had never even even existed to begin with. 

Though no tears fell, his legs went weak, going numb beneath him, which inevitably found him crumpling ungracefully to the ground in their place, landing on his knees with a sharp breath- needing to remind himself, in his all-consuming grief, that he was still required to do so. 

All he’d experienced, all he’d witnessed and weathered, and this was the thing that _finally_ broke his spirit. The absence of a creature which despised him for a reason he’d still yet to understand. 

Slowly, stiffly, he made to sit back before weakly drawing his knees up against his chest, arms coming up to wrap around them to hold them in place as he pressed his face into them. He lapsed into silence- attempting to focus on just _breathing,_ alongside needing to face the harsh, and striking reality that the distant creature he’d somehow managed to find companionship in, against all the odds, was now _gone._ He’d known it was always a possibility- but for it to happen so suddenly… 

Ultimately, his own reality was that he hadn’t been prepared to let it go- that he never _would_ have been prepared to let it go, to begin with. Let alone wordlessly. No goodbyes. No closure. 

Just… Gone. 

It had neither owed, nor shown him any allegiance at any point in time. What made it smart even more, was that he _should_ have known better than to think he’d, at any point in time, had any place in it’s life, let alone in it’s heart or it’s mind- where it had unintentionally found, and made a place inside his own. 

Sitting there in complete silence and stillness, his panic having failed to abate, with emotional exhaustion taking its toll- he found a temporary reprieve in the form of a brief, restless, but ultimately _merciful_ sleep. He’d have plenty of time to lament over all the lost possibilities he’d entertained in the short duration they’d spent together- plenty of time to grieve for a creature who’d never even considered him a _friend_

  
¶ _𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔬𝔳𝔞𝔥 𝔯𝔬𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔨𝔦𝔢𝔰, 𝔳𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔰𝔪𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔰𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔲𝔩𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔦𝔪𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔲𝔩𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔩 𝔟𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢𝔰._ ¶ 

  


His head spun- brain pounding, every inch of his body _aching,_ throbbing _._ Down to his very bones, each ligament and joint, muscle and sinew, as though having been stretched out onlt to be abruptly compacted again. Not a wholly foreign sensation- but an unfamiliar one, now, after having spent so long in a speechless, and ironically _vulnerable_ state, in spite of his sheer size and mass. 

A distinctly unpleasant ringing in his ears had him scrunching his face in displeasure- raising one hand to rub at his temples. 

One… Hand. 

Wait… 

He shot up from his prone position on the warm, stone floor- heated, thanks to the constant warmth emitted by the ever-burning forge- raising both hands and turning them over repeatedly- staring in complete and utter disbelief as he released a startled, choked laugh- promptly bursting into a short coughing fit- throat burning from the strain, wincing, both parched, and feeling like his vocal cords and larynx had been torn open after having been cinched shut for… How long, now? Years? Decades? One easily lost count, when forced to maintain such a form for so long, without any abilities or will to energize and fuel it. He’d slowly got to witness himself wither away in his captivity, like an out-of-body experience, watching from afar as he’d suffered the unique cruelty one could suffer only at the hands of human captors. 

Wretched, deplorable things. _Humans._

They’d tried to break him. Tried to break his spirit- tried to torment him, torture him, and maybe… In a way, they _had-_ but not in the way they’d, perhaps originally _intended_. 

His years in the hold of a egotistical Jarl, not even having reached adulthood, given too much power at too young an age, had not been restless ones. 

It was as though he was waking up after being suspended indefinitely in an almost trance-like state, from a long, long, disorienting rest- complete consciousness returning with his magic and stamina. 

After his balance seemed to settle, vision coming back into focus, and his stomach fell back down to his gut, his eyes traced warily over his surroundings- attempting to recollect any minute details that had been momentarily shoved to the back-burner. 

_Human,_ his mind echoed, and he frowned, squinting at nothing in particular- before widening in belated realization. 

Human. _Chanyeol._

Abruptly, he made to stand. 

Before promptly listing over to the side with a sound of vague irritation- bipedal. Humanoid legs. He tried to stand again- only, more carefully, this time- one hand on the wall, slowly moving along on shaky legs, balance precarious- and around a corner, where he raised his eyes. 

A familiar figure sat near the door of the small shop- unmoving, curled in on himself. Asleep? A second glance told him that they were trembling faintly, as though cold, or perhaps upset. 

He had yet to witness the normally positive, upbeat human in such a sore state- a frown marred his mouth. Something urged him to call out to him, but all that came out was a pathetic _squawk_ , abruptly sending him into yet _another_ coughing fit, rubbing at his sore throat with a wince before slowly, cautiously making his way over. 

It didn't take much in the ways of his newly restored senses to tell him that he was literally _radiating_ distress- and while he wouldn't go so far as to say he was necessarily _concerned,_ it was nonetheless disconcerting to prey witness to. Chanyeol, and _sad,_ were two things which certainly didn't belong in the same sentence. 

He knelt down beside him with a grimace- tentatively raising a hand to touch his shoulder, where his trembling became even _more_ apparent. 

He frowned heavily, squeezing his arm before lightly jostling him- startling backwards and falling onto his rear when the human's head suddenly shot up- eyes glassy and irritated, as though he'd been crying; only, his face remained dry. 

_Odd_. 

Chanyeol inhaled sharply- a gasp- eyes widening in shock as he cried out softly to echo his surprise, abruptly, and hurriedly scrambling backwards, until his back hit the door, hands raised in self defense. 

They shared a long, unwavering stare- allowing him to witness as an expression of confusion found his face, eyebrows drawn together- silence falling over them. 

The eyes… The eyes alone, were a dead giveaway, and yet Chanyeol could hardly even believe his own. 

The Lightfury? Was this… Could he possibly be… 

The pearlescent scales climbing his calves, dispersing above the knee into tawny human flesh, he supposed, were evidence enough. 

And all at once, Chanyeol deflated with a long-suffering sigh, raising a hand to scrub at his face, rubbing at his dry eyes before reluctantly peeking out from between the gaps of his own fingers to find the dragon staring curiously back at him. 

“You're really awful, you know?” He murmured, shakily, voice breaking and face crumpling, like he was on the verge of tears again. 

The Lightfury could only furrow his brows in confusion- lost. 

“I came in here, this morning, I… I… And _you_ were just… Just _gone_.” He buried his face in his hands, shaking his head in apparent disbelief. “You _scared_ me,” He whimpered, pathetically, yet endearingly genuine all the same. 

“Until today… Until today, I've never feared for my life before.” He swallowed dryly, frowning heavily, “But today I seriously felt like I was about to have a heart attack, or like… I could barely _breathe, damnit.”_

He raised a hand, expression sad, lost, as he pointed an accusatory finger towards him. 

“Don't you ever, _ever,_ pull that again-” He threatened, voice too weak for it it to be very convincing. “Ever!” He emphasized, inhaling shakily, and finishing off with a characteristic, tentative, “...Please.” 

But he deflated all at once when the creature offered him a lopsided smile, letting his head fall back against the door with an audible _thunk._

“Okay. Okay.” He nodded to himself, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Give me… I need something… Something to call you. _Dragon,_ is a little too vague.” He wet his lips, “And Lightfury is just far too… Human. It feels wrong, on my tongue. I suppose I could just… Call you by, Nosjunsenah-” 

The Dragon's head immediately shot up- eyes wide, cogs whirring away in his head almost audibly. He hadn't… Heard _that,_ in… Potentially centuries, now. It wasn't a common phrase, not by any means. And certainly not one known to _humans._

His eyes momentarily flickered down, attempting to find any tell-tale signs or features that might have offered him a tangible explanation- but with the human _completely_ clothed, literally from head to toe- doing so was virtually impossible. And properly articulating, let alone voicing, his concerns… Was another challenge all on its own. 

He cleared his throat before rubbing at it with a wince- hoarse, and raw, as he attempted to verbalize an answer to his question. 

Instead, nothing came out- just a soft, strained sound, accompanied by a grimace. 

Chanyeol fought back the urge to crack a smile- endeared. “It's fine. Can you possibly just write it out for me?” 

Slowly, Chanyeol made to stand, taking a few seconds to recollect himself before finally moving along the wall to the small desk in the corner of his shop, where he grabbed a scrap piece of paper and an inkwell pen, beckoning quickly for the creature to follow suit. He made a point of redirecting his gaze- not for the sake of modesty, so much as it was to avoid an unwanted distraction- possibly, not even only for his own _sake._

Chanyeol knew. Chanyeol knew, just what happened, when you put two unmated and unrelated dragons in a room together, for any real measure of time- it could only end one of two ways. 

One… Resulted in a brutal, and unforgiving fight to the death, if one felt as though their rightful territory or freedom was somehow being infringed upon. 

Such things weren’t determined by _gender_ or something so laughable as exerting male dominance upon someone else in an effort to force them into submission. Anyone born a Dov had the potential to be a threat to another Dovah… Just as they equally held the potential to be, perhaps, what could be perceived to be the exact _opposite_ of a threat. 

The other… The other…. 

His breath hitched audibly, when the other dragon, on unsteady feet, with slow, careful steps, came to stand beside him- in such close proximity, now, that he couldn’t help but momentarily be rendered speechless and breathless. Trying not to allow his hands to shake, he handed the pen over to the other creature- watching as he took it into his hand, and he seemed to struggle with properly grasping it- emphasized by the fact that it clattered back down to the table not only once, but twice before he sighed inaudibly in defeat and looked, miserably, to Chanyeol for assistance. 

“Hey,” He breathed out, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile, close-lipped so as to to bare his teeth. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Dexterity isn't usually the first thing that comes back.” He was relieved to find that the other didn’t seem to be offended or taken aback by his proffered help- allowing, and watching closely, for the sake of memorization, Chanyeol to take his hand and wrap his fingers around the stylus for him, before enclosing his own hand around it to hold that precise placement and bringing it down to the paper- touch just ghosting over the other dragon’s hand so as to hold it steady as he dragged the tip of the pen along the paper. 

As close together as they were standing, the other dragon seemed entirely unperturbed by the closeness. What Chanyeol had missed when he’d first began hovering over him was the look of shock that found the other’s face the moment their skin had touched- a tingling, sharp sensation, where Chanyeol’s fingers met his skin, had something prickling at the back of his memory. Something important, but something faraway. 

The partial revelation was gone just as swiftly as it had emerged- mind coming into focus on the situation at hand alongside recollecting the assembly of letters in relation to one another. It had been a long time since he’d read ancient texts, and an even longer time since he’d written in a dialect that had been almost completely forgotten, gone, buried beneath fallen empires and mass graves along with other prevalent parts of history. 

Chanyeol’s eyes traced over the intricate lettering- 7 symbols, making up three different syllables. The pronunciation of the language, Dovahzul… Could be tricky, even at the best of times- entirely dependant on the relation it shared with the following letter.. There was certainly room for error, in any case. 

And actually _seeing_ it… Written out fluidly, by someone who, of course, knew the language… Was almost surreal. 

Silently, he mouthed each syllable- sounding it out in his head, first, before saying it aloud, after the Dragon set the pen back down and stepped back, eyes flickering between his own lettering and Chanyeol’s mouth. 

“Pa...Ack…Hun?” He tried, cringing outwardly- tilting his head from side to side to see if he could better identify each symbol. “Pah…” He started, looking to the other dragon for confirmation before continuing. He swallowed dryly inbetween, “Aak?” 

Another nod. One syllable to go. He wrinkled his nose, squinting, as though that would help him, “Hyun?” He tried finally, completely bewildered- cracking up at the look of utter _disgust_ written across the other Dragon’s face. His disappointment was practically tangible. 

“I hate to say it… But this is _hardly_ legible.” 

The dragon nudged him sharply in the side with an elbow in retaliation, glare half-hearted- but seeing the human all but radiating amusement, eyes alight with mirth... Made it hard for him to _actually_ be reasonably offended. 

Names… Were important to dragons. Speaking of far more than just a few letters or preference. A Dragon’s name… Spoke of their feats. Spoke of the accomplishments they were destined to achieve- Their birthright. Their entire purpose, and sense of self. 

But none of that detracted from the fact that Chanyeol could hardly even identify each letter, let alone derive a meaning and an accurate translation. 

“Alright… Pah-ack-hyun,” He teased purposefully, this time earning a chastising pinch to his side. 

“That won’t do… Not in Skyrim. That’s far, _far_ too obvious.” He nodded for emphasis, the Dragon seeming to just nod and sigh in resignation; he was right. 

“So…How about…” He gnawed at his lower lip. “Baek-Hyun?” Shortened to two syllables, while still sounding at least… Somewhat vaguely similar, it didn't earn him a negative response, much to his surprise- the dragon just seeming to nod and accept the derivation, if not with reluctance. At least, temporarily. Small victories. 

“I guess we should head inside- there's no reason for you to stay inside here,” he began, stepping back to undo and shrug out of his overcoat. Baekhyun just stood back and watched with thinly concealed confusion, before Chanyeol held the jacket out for him to step into- draping it around broad shoulders, and buttoning it up for a good measure. 

Almost subconsciously, he found himself inhaling the scent clinging to the fabric- smelling of oil, smoke, and something distinctly masculine and warm. It was well worn in, comfortable even against his naked skin, and a pleasant weight that somehow served to help ground him. The attachment was instantaneous, if not slightly peculiar. He chalked it up to having spent a small eternity in captivity, with not a single possession to call his own. 

This would do, he decided then and there. He'd start his treasury with the coat he was more than certain meant to be _borrowed_ to him, rather than gifted. The leather was thick, treated to be water resistant and durable when facing the elements. In any case, he wasn't very subtle in doing so- scenting the floor-length coat, shoulders slumped. Unthreatened, and comfortable enough to let his guard down. 

“Come, you've been cooped up in here long enough.” He glanced around the room, settling on the nest of hay from the small bale he'd brought in so that the creature had something substantial to sleep on. He'd tried. And it seemed his efforts hadn't been in vain. 

He reached out for Baekhyun's hand, who just… Stared at it, with his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. Chanyeol bit back a smirk, looking at him expectantly. 

“Go on. Take it,” He implored, with Baekhyun’s eyes narrowing in response. “It’s a bit blizzardy outside. The walk is short, but I can’t have you getting lost… Hold my hand and let me guide you.” 

No response. Chanyeol sighed. 

“ _Please,”_ he tried, voice a whisper. That seemed to do the trick. 

  
¶ _F𝔯𝔢𝔢? 𝔑𝔬. ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔬𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤. ℑ 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔫𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔗𝔞𝔪𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔩 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔞𝔤𝔞𝔦𝔫, 𝔬𝔯 ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔶 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔥. ℑ 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔪𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩_ ¶ 

  


“Just let me…. I’ll grab you something to wear- don’t go anywhere!” Chanyeol began, frantically- with Baekhyun just squinting at him with his eyebrows drawn together in apparent confusion, as though to say, ‘ _where would I have to go, either way?’_

But he nodded, making to sit down on the single chair situated in front of the hearth- sighing inaudibly as he stretched out his legs to prop his feet right on the edge of the recessed fire pit, embedded into the cobblestone flooring. He allowed his head to loll to one side, curling and uncurling his clawed toes as the burning flames tickled the soles of his feet- pleasantly hot. 

That was how Chanyeol found him, some minutes later- dozing in his chair. It was almost a shame to wake him. He sighed softly, before setting the clothing down and moving on to his second task; getting a hot bath ready for him. Some of the nicer Capitals further south had running water supplied to the majority of their residents- but Diresong wasn’t so kind, the below freezing temperatures rendering such a thing infeasible. The pipes would freeze up, and break. 

A manual pump that brought up water from deep in the ground was what was readily available- slow, but functional. Full baths were tedious even in milder weather- the cold water still needed to be heated up over the fire in order for it to reach a suitable temperature. 

But Baekhyun deserved it- who knows how long it had been since he'd last had the luxury of sitting in a nice, steaming hot bath? He set to work, and though time consuming, bucket by bucket, he filled the small tub- laying out the clothing and some towels for him to take afterwards, before gently waking the other creature, who groaned as he stirred awake- blinking heavily, disgruntled. 

“I have a bath ready for you,” he offered, offering him a close-lipped smile. 

That seemed to peak his interest, stiffly rising from and rounding the chair to follow his host- breathing out a soft sigh as he stepped into the small bathroom. Steam rose off the surface of the clean, still water in waves. 

He was quick to peel himself out of his coat- mindless of his nudity, and Chanyeol could only avert his eyes so quickly- rubbing at his temples. While it wasn't _odd,_ at least,not as a _dragon_ , it still came as something of a shock to be in the presence of someone, maintaining a humanoid form, while still being so… Brazen. So unashamed. 

Dragons didn't wear clothes- that much was true. But _dragons_ also had a full body of plated, hard armor to protect their vulnerable points. Silently, Chanyeol shook his head to himself- turning to leave- 

A loud _splash_ reached his ears, and he cringed- aware that water had very much just spilled all over the wood flooring of the bathroom- turning around again to inspect the damage. 

Only to find no Baekhyun in sight- a moment of panic settling over him before sighting bubbles rising to the surface of the water- expression flattening as he watched with confusion etched across his face. He counted the seconds, frowning softly as Baekhyun suddenly surfaced again with a sharp gasp for breath- odd. 

“Do you need anything else?” He tried, tentatively, watching as the other man brought up his hands to wipe the water out of his eyes, blinking up at him blearily and offering, predictably, no response. 

“Okay, well… Pound on the wall, if you need something,” he turned on his heel to leave again, making it halfway out the door before a soft, and painfully hoarse voice called out. 

“ _Stay_ ,” it was only a single word, barely audible, and only a single word was needed to convince him to change his mind. 

He breathed out a long, soft sigh, resigning himself to sitting with his back to the tub in near complete silence, save for the gentle splashing of the water each time Baekhyun moved, thoroughly scrubbing himself clean in the boiled water. As his kin, Chanyeol knew, perhaps better than anyone, just how satisfying it was to be completely surrounded by any degree, or source of warmth- the hotter, the better, no matter the circumstances. 

No further words were shared between, nor offered by either of them; Chanyeol began to doze, just nodding off, his eyes fluttering shut as he battled sleep- and flying open again, when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He turned his head to face Baekhyun, to find that he was offering him… His washcloth? 

He frowned softly, but accepted it- realization dawning on him when Baekhyun made to turn around so that his back was facing him- standing up on his knees in the tub, with his forearms along the rim, to offer him the expanse. He wanted him to… Wash his back for him? He proceeded with caution, watching for any telltale signs of discomfort or displeasure as he reached out to scrub at his back with the soapy cloth, biting his lip when the other creature arched his back and emitted could only be a _purr_ , where he may or may not have begun scrubbing a little harder in an effort to earn that sound again. 

When every square inch of his back had been covered, he dropped the cloth back in the water to rinse and wring it out, laying it on the edge of the basin. 

“Should I leave you to dry off and dress?” He tried, softly, reluctant to disrupt the delicate quietude and comfortable atmosphere. 

Baekhyun, further adding to his his confusion, shook his head _no,_ indicating that he wanted him to stay. 

But then he emerged from the water, slowly standing up in the tub, completely naked and soaking wet, with Chanyeol conveniently seated at the perfect angle for him to catch an eyeful of… _Everything-_ prompting him to make a newer, hastier, self-preserving decision. 

“I'm going to go make sure my room is ready for you, just come up there when you're done. I'll take care of the water.” 

And he was gone just as quickly as he'd come. 

Of course, there was nothing there for him _to_ get ready- the bed was already made, and his room was completely tidy- leaving him to assemble only his own sleeping arrangements by arranging a haphazard bed on the floor. 

Maybe it sounded horrible… But being around Baekhyun while he hadn’t been able to communicate, had been much, much easier, and much more comfortable, than _this._ He felt intimidated, somehow- not out of strength, or mental aptitude, but Baekhyun just held a certain air of… Importance, about him, that he couldn’t simply shoulder. Like his very presence demanded attention- and Chanyeol was helpless but to want to give it to him. 

But to want to give him… Anything, and everything. 

He was weak to him; and that was a scary, scary thought. Chanyeol had figured, in his many, many years, that he’d long outgrown his former weaknesses and fears; but that didn't appear to be the case. At least, not for all of them. 

And with him being so brazen, so shameless, in addition, Chanyeol couldn’t help but feel absolutely _doomed_ , damned to make a complete and utter fool of himself. It was such a _human_ sentiment, embarrassment. Reservations- further emphasized by the clear divide between them in that Baekhyun didn’t feel even a _fraction_ of the same thing. Chanyeol could owe it to his immersion into a human society, and a docile, domesticated lifestyle. 

Perhaps, as a dragon, such a thing was shameful- but it had ultimately guaranteed Chanyeol’s continued survival and well-being; Baekhyun’s nature, and his own former tendencies, clearly hadn’t served the same purpose, nor been nearly as effective in anything but damning him to a life of confinement. Into… Hardly even a _life,_ at all. 

In the recesses of his mind, the thought echoed- _he_ hadn’t been living, either, even with his supposed freedom and safety. Perhaps… 

Baekhyun slowly traversed up the stairs, creaking quietly beneath his weight- alerting Chanyeol, who looked up to watch as he entered his bedroom- peering around, curiously, at the minimalist decor, and the small adornments that he could tell, at even just a glance, had stories, held _meaning_ , behind each of them. 

Perhaps… Chanyeol hadn’t fared much better in the realm of confinement; he glanced around the walls of his small bedroom, glanced around his small, cozy prison cell. 

Had this _really_ been freedom? Living a lie? Living a life of loneliness just for the sole purpose of _not_ dying? 

The other pointed towards the bed he’d made for himself on the floor- confusion on his face. Even if he couldn’t quite speak, at least, not in cohesive nor full sentences, he was still _highly_ expressive, just as he had been beneath the hardened flesh of a Dragon. While not quite a victory, it was certainly more convenient than the only other alternative; _not_ being able to communicate at _all._

“Not for you,” He supplied, frowning softly when Baekhyun’s expression failed to change. Not the answer he cared to hear, he supposed. “It’s for me,” He tried, eyebrows furrowed, watching as Baekhyun made a slight show out of sighing in exasperation, before pointing to the bed. 

“You’re a guest. Take my bed.” 

His impatience further made itself known when he stepped forward to peel back the sheets, pointing to one side of the bed _again._

Chanyeol could only smile and scratch his head sheepishly. Was there something wrong? Something he wasn’t understandi- 

His eyes widened fractionally when Baekhyun stepped towards _him_ to grab his wrist, bodily _dragging_ him over to the side he’d been pointing to, before climbing onto the opposite and looking up at him expectantly. Once again, he gestured towards the empty side- and realization finally struck him with a quick, ‘Aha!’ moment. 

But that only caused a _new_ set of issues to arise- ones Chanyeol wasn’t certain he could deal with yet tonight on top of everything else. 

Weakly, he tried laughing it off and shaking his head. “No, no. You’re a guest, I took you into my home. You can have it all to yourself, I really don’t mind…” 

Baekhyun’s near _deadly_ glare towards him had him making pause- eyebrows drawing together in concern. 

It seemed… There wasn’t any room for him to argue. He sighed, before resigning himself to his fate in climbing in beside him- but not before putting out the flame of the oil-lantern alight on his bedside table just beside him. He drew the covers up to his chin, and resolved to keep his eyes on the ceiling. 

Predictably, that was much easier said than done when he could _feel_ Baekhyun’s eyes boring into him. He held his tongue- the other was probably just curious, just like he was- there was really no harm to be found in that. Plus, Baekhyun hardly held much in the ways of reservations, in any case. The smallest detail, the most unassuming of things, could pique his curiosity over something that might otherwise be overlooked by someone else. Someone less critical. Someone less observant. 

Chanyeol’s resolve could only go so far. 

“Baekhyun…” He whispered, the shift of the covers beside him telling him that the other had very much heard him and was paying apt attention. 

“Please… Stop staring at me,” He pleaded quietly. Predictably… He was met only with silence as a response. 

Several days, and several nights, would come to pass in much the same fashion- with Baekhyun slowly but surely recovering from his near total loss of power- and of his life, by extension. 

It’s both a blessing and a curse that his voice is the last thing that seems to return to him- human vocal chords weakened, nearly rendered dumb by the strain. Who knows, just how long, it had been since he’d last _actually_ spoken more than just a word or two- made more than just a sound. But spending time in Chanyeol’s company, though he was loathe to admit it, _was_ incredibly effective- the human slowly, but surely, bringing him back to his full health. He wanted to resent him- even after all he’d done for him- that was just his distrustful nature showing through. 

But, he found in no time, that he _couldn’t._ That no amount of trying could render him unable to like Chanyeol, or could even make him dislike his company. He’d never put a voice to the realization, but being in Chanyeol’s presence… Was a small comfort. He felt safe- and he knew that in itself was a dangerous, dangerous thing. 

He’d been in that position before- trusting a human, who could seemingly do no wrong, painting themselves as an ally, only to betray him and nearly claim his life… And for what? At what cost? A few gold coins? Acknowledgement from a Jarl who was too cowardly to capture a Dragon on his own, yet still wanted to claim the honor and the glory of having been the one to do so? It was pathetic- humans, were pathetic. And it was with that thought constantly in the back of his mind, that kept him at a short distance. Kept him from giving in to the temptation, kept him from giving _in_ to a human who seemed to only have Baekhyun’s best interests in mind- going out of his way for him, just to make him comfortable. Just to protect him- make him feel safe. 

Chanyeol’s coat was his, now- the human had accepted that fact with no more than a soft sigh upon the belated realization that Baekhyun _refused_ to let it go, let alone let him take it back. Domesticated as he was, Chanyeol could still understand his underlying nature, something that applied even to him, even after playing pretend for well over a century. 

Dragons… Without exception, were hungry creatures- hungry, ravenous, for everything. For knowledge, for power, for food, for lives, and even for material possessions- home becoming not entirely unlike a crows nest, filled with countless items that they’d taken ownership of, from either being given them, or from finding them on their own. Was Chanyeol’s worn, weathered coat worth much in terms of monetary value? Threadbare in some places in the lining, outer material faded from the sun, small scorch marks adorning the thick leather… He wouldn’t make a profit off of selling it, he’d be lucky to even get _anything_ in return. 

But financial value, and sentimental value, were two entirely different things. 

And sentimental value was something dragons could, and would, carry with them to the grave. 

For all intents and purposes… Chanyeol’s coat, now belonged to Baekhyun and Baekhyun _only._ He didn’t have the heart to take it from him- nor the desire. 

It struck him, quite suddenly, the exact relevance of the single, simple item- it was Baekhyun’s _first_ possession upon finally obtaining freedom. 

After coming to that late realization… A variety of small things found their way into Baekhyun’s hands- obliviously, and eagerly, accepting them- Chanyeol was spoiling him, and he was absolutely _thrilled_ with the prospect, whether or not he realized the intent, or that Chanyeol was doing so wittingly. 

Baekhyun grew no less brazen- predictably… And unfortunately for Chanyeol, Chanyeol _also_ grew no less unaffected by it, or by him. A lot of the time spent in his company… Was a strenuous exercise in self control- alongside a precarious balance of _does he_ or _doesn’t he?_ Several weeks in… And Chanyeol still had absolutely _no_ idea as to whether or not Baekhyun even _liked him._ He’d been sure that sharing a _bed_ with him every night had been a surefire indicator, but the next day he’d been met with the same cold indifference and wariness that Baekhyun had shown him since the very beginning. 

In itself… _That_ was quite exhausting. But he endured. 

Taking Baekhyun in, hadn't been out of selfishness or for his own self gain- taking Baekhyun in, had been out of his own kindness, and the sentiment in being one of the very few remaining Dovah alongside himself. He’d figured… That maybe that would mean something to Baekhyun, that he’d soon come around, but his attitude towards him remained more or less the same, and no less confusing. Chanyeol gave up on trying to guess- patience wasn’t something he was unaccustomed to needing to exhibit for his own self-preservation and well-being. 

  
¶ _𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔨𝔶 𝔟𝔢𝔠𝔨𝔬𝔫𝔰… 𝔜𝔢𝔱 ℑ 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢, 𝔬𝔫 𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔥, 𝔞𝔰 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔡_ ¶ 

  


Upon awakening, Chanyeol could immediately tell that something… Something was amiss. Something was wrong- heart beating erratically in his chest, something that felt a lot like panic running through his veins, thinning his blood. 

Baekhyun’s soft whimpering, stifled moans of pain, were another surefire indicator, and he bolted upright in bed- eyes darting around the room in an attempt to locate him- jaw clenching when he heard him cry out in pure _agony-_ as though in direct response to his own internal monologue. 

“Baekhyun? Baekhyun?” He inhaled shakily, rounding the bed to find him on the floor, curled in on himself defensively, as he cradled his head, entire form trembling from what he could only imagine to be discomfort. 

Baekhyun still hadn’t shared many words with him, even though he’d already recovered substantially- so to hear him do so, was alarming and disconcerting. 

His voice was thin, strained, still unaccustomed to being used any more than what was absolutely necessary, “ _Stop…”_ He whimpered, and Chanyeol’s heart physically _ached_ in response to the pain in his voice. “ _Make it stop, please- please,”_ The plea was sobbed out- and Chanyeol, now wide awake, put two and two together fairly quickly; Cradling his head… And begging him to make ‘it’ stop, sounding like he was in _debilitating_ pain. 

Chanyeol, sitting beside him on the floor, with one hand on his shoulder to comfort him- stilled, hanging his head and closing his eyes as he attempted to focus on silencing his thoughts. 

Baekhyun came to, as if surfacing from an almost trance-like state with a sharp gasp- teeth still on edge, face still wet with tears, but the pain… The throbbing, thumping in his head, between his ears, louder than ever before, had vanished almost entirely- leaving him confused, and slightly askew. He let go of his head and slowly, stiffly, accepted Chanyeol’s help, sitting up with a wince and looking at him with wide, wary eyes, as though being struck with some sudden, shocking realization. Disbelief found his features next, a mixture of emotions playing out in quick succession. 

_“_ Baekhyun?” He tried softly, reluctantly withdrawing his hand- concern written clearly across his face. 

“You’re…” Baekhyun began, inhaling shakily, eyes growing wet again as his eyebrows furrowed in combined hurt and confusion. “No... “ 

_Oh._ Chanyeol swallowed dryly, his own eyebrows pulling together- How was this… How could this _possibly_ be such a sudden realization for him. Had he… Had he not known, all this time? 

Chanyeol offered him a wobbly smile, keeping his head in check- he could contribute the sudden attack to being an onset of overstimulation- like someone who had gone deaf, suddenly, without warning, regaining their hearing. Baekhyun could hear him. 

He’d been in his company, all this time- knowing what he was, knowing the relevance of his being there… But… None of that, not even _finding him,_ was quite as emotional as this. This… Validation. This connection. The link that separated dragon souls from mortal souls- the link that made them, as Dovah, one in the same, was intact. Still mending, but ultimately present. 

The rest of the morning played out in absolute silence- mentally, and audibly, with Baekhyun scarcely even acknowledging his existence for a good few hours. Conflicted. Upset. Over what? Chanyeol only wished he could understand. 

What he _could_ discern, however, was the fact that it had taken _this,_ that mental link being established, for Baekhyun to finally recognize Chanyeol as his kin- for him to even _realize,_ Chanyeol was neither mortal, nor _human._

“I thought you knew,” Chanyeol broke the silence, some time later, seated across from him at his small dining-room table. Baekhyun looked hurt, now- which was what had prompted him to say something in the first place. 

“I just thought… You didn’t-” 

“Translate my name,” Baekhyun interrupted, a little coldly, voice just a murmur, as though he were upset with him. “In your human tongue, translate the name- the one I wrote out for you.” 

“Literally speaking… Whole, guiding, and hero were the words I managed to decipher.” 

Baekhyun nodded, expression still expectant- any Dov knew that there was yet still a translation _of_ the direct and literal translation of one's given name. 

“The hero who guides all.” 

Baekhyun's expression relaxed again, seemingly less skeptical of his alleged claim. 

Together, they sat quietly, Chanyeol making a point of keeping his thoughts to himself for the duration- itching to say something, anything, if only to once again break the terse silence lingering between them. 

This was not…. How he’d imagined their first, actual, conversation to go. 

But in maintaining the quiet, it enabled him to gather his thoughts, running over dozens of possible scenarios, and answers, in his head. Finally, he concluded, that the only tangible explanation behind Baekhyun’s sudden standoffishness, and shock, was that he _hadn’t_ even realized that he and Chanyeol… Bore more in the ways of similarities than the other Dov would have ever considered otherwise. 

“You… Didn’t know,” He finally murmured softly- Baekhyun’s audible, quivering inhale served as his confirmation. 

And from what he could further gather… Baekhyun _still_ didn’t quite believe it. It was as though… He almost didn’t even _want_ to believe it. To consider the possibility. 

Chanyeol couldn’t hold it against him; never having fared much better in that same regard. The disbelief. The reluctance. The outright _denial._

“Siivhindshul,” He supplied, the other Dov looking up at him with momentary confusion written across his face, eyes widening a fraction when Chanyeol moved to kneel in front of him, where he was sitting with his back to the bed- bowing his head in a silent offer. 

When he didn’t seem to catch on instantaneously, he tentatively reached for one of Baekhyun’s hands to lay it flush against his hair. He seemed to understand the direct gesture, prodding, feeling around his scalp for something tell-tale, something concrete. His evidence showed itself in the form of horns protruding from his skull, arching backwards, obscured quite well by the nest of inky black strands- soft to the touch. 

Second, came Chanyeol’s gloves- something he’d never even thought twice about. The climate was less than forgiving- he could just as easily have been constantly cold. His hands were scaled, colored a deep, blue-black, hardly even catching the light of the moon streaming in through the window. His fingertips tapered outwards, off into sharp, thick claws. 

Taking one of his hands into his own, only served to further put things into perspective- not only in the similarities that they shared, but the stark contrast in coloration- Where Baekhyun’s were softer, and more pearlescent, Chanyeol’s were darker, and more weathered. 

That… Seemed to be enough to placate him, for the time being- still not enough to _warm_ him, but Chanyeol could just as easily justify that with the conclusion that he really never _had_ been, to begin with. Perhaps never _would_ be. He could only hope that things would start looking up. 

In the days which would follow, and come to pass, Chanyeol couldn’t ignore the awkward, unspoken-of tension between them- like static electricity. They talked… But only minimally- with Baekhyun always more or less avoiding eye contact, and sometimes not even turning to face him at _all._ Their relationship… Or rather, a lack thereof- was quite clearly a work in progress. 

Though, the fact that they weren’t at eachothers throats, or constantly challenging one another, spoke volumes all on its own. Chanyeol concluded, after cataloguing the tentative, lingering glances, the flushed cheeks, the heavy gazes, when he thought Chanyeol wasn’t paying attention, the bashfulness, that Baekhyun, though perhaps loathe to admit it, _liked_ him- or, was at least attracted by him. Maybe… Slightly enamoured- but the latter two could just as easily have been wishful thinking. 

Primal creatures at their core… Though sentient, though wise beyond their already indefinite years- the animalistic tendencies, urges, desires, still remained prevalent. No amount of intelligence… No amount of reason, no amount of danger, nor any amount of improbability, could detract from that. 

Baekhyun’s recovery wasn’t _quite_ smooth, nor easy, but with Chanyeol’s help, with Chanyeol’s guidance and open heart, he got there- though his standoffishness seemed to remain, even after all the time they’d spent in one another’s company. 

As it would happen, however… What Chanyeol had initially misinterpreted as _standoffishness_ , as distrust, or something of the like… Was, in actuality, a dilemma that had good reason to weigh on Baekhyun so heavily; one Chanyeol could, unfortunately, heavily sympathize with. 

His discovery, heavily delayed, came late at night- when he’d, perhaps, least expected Baekhyun to approach him with a topic of any real degree of significance or importance. Let alone something so… _Personal_. 

Baekhyun had had to brace himself, had to gather his bearings- couldn’t allow his emotions to overlook his ability to see reason. Couldn’t allow his distrust, ingrained into him, to prevent him from seeking out help from the one being left who he _could,_ reliably, put his faith into. 

“Chanyeol…” He’d begun, softly- nearly startling him awake; save for the fact that he hadn’t _quite_ even been fully asleep yet. After clearing his throat, blinking heavily, he made a soft sound of acknowledgement in confirmation that he’d indeed heard him. 

“Do you have any family?” It was still such a rarity, to hear Baekhyun actively attempt to hold conversation with him- it never failed to take him by surprise when he finally did. The most striking detail of it being how _soft_ his voice was to the ears- soothing, and almost lulling, in the midst of retelling a story. 

Chanyeol didn’t need to consider the question for very long, however- melancholy washing over him as a bittersweet smile found his face- invisible in the darkness of the bedroom. 

“I did,” He answered, without a second thought. “Once. A very… Very long time ago.” A soft sigh, countless fond memories running through his mind. Baekhyun’s proceeding silence told him he expected, or rather, hoped, for him to elaborate further. 

“Nestmates. A sire, and a mother…” He breathed out a long, wistful sigh. “The climate… Abruptly changed, before we… Before all of us got the chance to hatch.” 

Baekhyun, listening aptly, remained silent- indicating that he should continue with his recollection. 

“Only a few of us made it past our shells. I had three other siblings, which I was raised alongside. Full-blooded, all of us. Past Juvenescence, and adolescence… A total of three of us made it into adulthood. By then, my sire and mother were out of the picture- so our small family of five became just my two nestmates and I. We were independent, at that point- we each went our own ways. I'm not sure how it is for the _Jun Nah-_ your kind, but… For the _Vul_ Nah… My kind... We aren't terribly social creatures- at least, not amongst one another. Territorial disputes can arise, overlooking even blood connections.” The memory was a fond one- such a peaceful, _easy_ time. He _missed_ easy. 

“I didn’t see them again, after we parted,” He began, rubbing at his tired eyes. Not the _best_ of times to begin such a conversation. “Or.. At least, not alive, anyways. I found their burial mounds, after the war ended- my sire, too. What happened to my mother, well… I found her head, mounted as a decoration piece for some dignitary. I recovered what I could. As I came across them, I turned them to Ash, and spread them at the top of the mountain where we began, in Atmora.” 

While he couldn’t say he really _expected_ a story anywhere near as serious or in depth, it still took him by surprise when all Baekhyun had to offer in response was, after nodding silently, as though thinking it over to himself, “I think my brother might be alive.” 

With the tone of voice Baekhyun had used, Chanyeol had initially just thoughtlessly nodded in response- before his brain caught up with him. 

“Wait, _what_? What makes you think that?” “He visited me, where I was being held- once. He managed to slip past security,” And then, as though feeling Chanyeol’s expression of alarm, “Human body,” he added. 

“When? How long ago?” Chanyeol had sat up, curiosity piqued. And maybe… Maybe, he was just a _little_ bit excited by the prospect. 

There were… More of them? The revelation was a striking one. First, discovering Baekhyun, and next, discovering that… There could potentially be even more of then, laying in wait, in hiding, just as he was. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised, he’d hardly been the wisest of Dragons- but his self-preservation instincts had prevailed over his pride and comfort, and his magical prowess had served him well in that regard. 

But… After searching, far and wide, for so very long- it had been far too easy for him to lose touch with reality. Far too easy for him to stop thinking rationally, in such dire circumstances for his entire species. 

“I’m not sure, truthfully,” Baekhyun breathed a sigh, rubbing at his face, frowning into the darkness of the room. “Time ceases to exist when you’ve only your own thoughts for company.” 

Chanyeol snorted, perhaps a little inappropriately, “Yeah, tell me about it.” Baekhyun lapsed into silence, before murmuring, confusion quite audible, “Is that an expression, or do you actually want to hear about the short eternity i spent doing absolutely while nothing in confinement?” 

“What-” Chanyeol made pause, before chuckling softly. “No, no. It’s… Yeah. Figure of speech.” 

“Oh,” Baekhyun replied, the quiet finding them again. 

“Back to your brother…” Chanyeol began, clearing his throat. “You have… No frame of reference? No estimate? 

“I don’t even know for how _long_ I was imprisoned. I didn’t exactly have a calendar… I was hardly even allowed to see the light of day.” 

“Ah… Well, let’s try… What was the last thing, historically, that occured around the time you were captured?” 

“I believe… The construction of Alduin’s wall had ended, some time prior. That’s all I can say with certainty.” 

“That’s plenty to go by.” Chanyeol nodded, stroking his chin in consideration. “I’d say… That brings us to about…” He trailed off, closing his eyes and rubbing at his temples. “Second era- early.” 

“I see…” Baekhyun frowned softly, “And, in which era are we now?” “Fourth. Third Century.” 

Baekhyun’s gasp was audible- quite evidently taken aback by the revelation. 

Chanyeol held back a chuckle- the realization quite likely wasn’t a welcome one. 

“The fact that time passes so quickly, can be both a blessing and a curse to us.” 

Struck by Baekhyun’s sudden silence, he reached out to touch the others shoulder in an attempt to comfort- pleasantly surprised to find that he didn’t shy away from it- but rather… Leaned into his touch. Curious. 

“Can you recall where he was last settled?” He asked, quietly, some minutes of silence later. 

“Ravenpoint…” Baekhyun murmured, a little numbly- still in disbelief. 

“Have you been there? It’s a peaceful little place… Immediately South of here.” He nodded, briefly mulling over the length of the trip, and when it would be best to set out. 

“No… I… No, I haven’t. I’m not… From here, Chanyeol,” He elaborated, frowning softly. “This Province is… Almost entirely foreign to me- I only ended up… Well, _here,_ after being forced to… _Land_ , due to exhaustion.” ‘Land,’ was a term he was using rather loosely, seeing as he’d quite literally plummeted out of the sky. 

“Ah. Well, you’re in luck then. I happen to be… Well, the closest thing you’ll get to a native of Skyrim, other than someone of direct Nordic descent.” 

“In luck…?” Baekhyun frowned softly, genuinely confused. 

“Yes... I’ve travelled all over. I’ve certainly had more than enough time to do so.” 

“What does… That have to do with anything?” 

“Oh. Well, we’re going to head there, aren’t we?” Chanyeol tried, amusement in his tone, as if he were stating something obvious- seemingly far more enthused than Baekhyun was by the prospect. 

“Chanyeol…” Baekhyun took a deep breath, shaking his head. “It’s been literal _eras,_ since I last saw, or heard from him.” 

“What, you don’t think he’ll have forgotten you, do you?” He jested, frowning when he was just met with characteristic silence rather than the enthusiasm he’d expected, and hoped for. 

“He’s... Probably not alive, Chanyeol,” He exhaled shakily, weaving and unweaving his fingers in his lap- eyes downcast. He sounded… So very hopeless, and it made Chanyeol’s heart ache for him. 

The manner in which he reached over to take one of Baekhyun’s hands into his own, lacing their fingers together, gently stroking over the top of his hand with his thumb, was instinctual. Was what felt _right._ He squeezed it in what he hoped was reassurance. 

“You don’t know that for certain. Something may have prevented him from visiting you- Silvermoore Hold isn’t exactly the most friendly of regions for travel by foot, or even just… Life, in general.” 

“I… I don’t know... “ Baekhyun brought up his other hand to rub at his temples. “Maybe I just don’t want to know,” He continued, voice a whisper. 

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Chanyeol responded, voice flat. “We’ll head out tomorrow- that will give us plenty of time to prepare for the journey.” There was a no-nonsense tone to his voice that made Baekhyun think twice about protesting- gathering, very quickly, that once Chanyeol had his heart set on something, there was very little one could do to dissuade him. 

Just as he was about to respond- to make one, final attempt- Chanyeol interrupted his train of thought. 

“Ravenpoint is about a twelve day journey on foot- provided the weather conditions are permitting,” He continued, already mapping out the details of their impromptu trip in his head. 

“You sound far more excited by this than I do,” Baekhyun mused, sighing in defeat. 

“I’ve been stationary for quite a long time- haven’t had a reason to travel anywhere. It’ll be refreshing, getting back out there.” He made to lay back down, pulling the covers back over himself, with Baekhyun following suit, eyes trailing over his silhouette. 

The pair lapsed into silence once again- sleep tugging at Chanyeol’s eyelids and nearly pulling him under, when he felt a gentle squeeze on his hand and a familiar voice, which wasn’t his own, slipping into his subconscious- uttering the words, for Baekhyun, which he felt as though he were unable to profess aloud, 

‘ _Thank you.’_

  
¶ _ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔟𝔢 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰. 𝔅𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱. ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔩𝔴𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔞 𝔡𝔬𝔳𝔞𝔥._ ¶ 

  


Chanyeol smiled in what he hoped was reassurance, adjusting the straps of his deerskin rucksack and shifting the weight about his shoulders- not overly cumbersome, but it had been quite some time since he’d last needed to carry so much gear at once- a bed-roll, a medium-sized leather tent to keep out the damp, supplies to make a campfire, a bow and a quiver of arrows, and a skinning knife. Enough for him to comfortably make the journey which would span over nearly two weeks from that point onwards. Packing light was essential to stamina and pacing- if they wanted to make good time, though, realistically, in no hurry, they needed to take only the bare necessities. Extra clothing and bandages were stowed away inside his bag- a torch bound to the side of the pack in the case of emergencies, and a dagger on his hip. 

Though having already long proven himself more than capable, Chanyeol purposefully packed Baekhyun’s bag much lighter than his own- extra clothing, a little ill-fitting given his shorter stature, and pelts meant to line the tent floor to help insulate the ground interior and better block out the cold from sinking in, along with another bedroll- a small hatchet affixed to his belt, with his own dagger on the opposite side. 

“Just… One last time- are you sure you don’t want something… A little warmer?” He gestured towards his own jacket- thick furs, to block out the chilling winds and bitter cold. 

“This is fine, Chanyeol,” He sighed in faint exasperation- a little fondly, but also a little defensive of what, Chanyeol had come to realize early on, he’d now deemed his own- the jacket Chanyeol had meant to only briefly lend to him. 

He wasn’t getting it back- this he knew, and with certainty. 

But maybe… Just maybe… Seeing the other man wrapped up in what smelled like him, what belonged to _him,_ he couldn’t really bring himself to mind, let alone count it as much of a loss. 

As it turned out, just a few hours into their first day, Baekhyun _did_ need something a little warmer- though he was loathe to admit it. Couldn’t even bring himself to say so aloud- instead, a soft voice intruding into Chanyeol’s subconscious, and having him thinly biting back a knowing smirk, ‘ _It’s colder than I thought.’_

Chanyeol opted to keep any thoughts or remarks to himself- turning to approach Baekhyun and dig around in his pack for the fur cloak he’d packed for him for that very purpose- silently going about draping the thick article over his broad shoulders, drawing the hood up over his head, and tying it at the front to keep it closed and in place. 

Relative silence- beyond the audible crunch of their footsteps in the compacted snow, and the howling winds, growingly increasingly louder in volume- fell over them both- hardly the most entertaining of ventures, though not much different from travelling alone, or even from the numerous days they’d spent together, just held up in Chanyeol’s lodge. Baekhyun wasn’t incredibly talkative- and Chanyeol… Well, Chanyeol was just happy to have company- silent company was better than nothing, if anything else. As they’d discussed- or rather, Chanyeol had proposed, and Baekhyun hadn’t said _anything_ to- they didn’t make any unnecessary stops along the way- And as on schedule, they arrived at their first check-point before nightfall- having left reasonably early on in the morning. 

With the snow covering the ground and falling from the sky, sleeping under the stars wasn’t within reason- so while Chanyeol set up their tent, to his pleasant surprise, Baekhyun offered to go hunting; either he was ravenous from the beginning of their trek, or he was simply bored out of his wits- Chanyeol couldn’t much blame him. 

He set on preparing a campfire, collecting twigs for tinder and chopping off enough low-hanging tree-branches to suffice for their firewood for the night- he had flint and steel, just in case, but... There wasn’t anyone present to witness his casual use of magic- summoning a flame to his palm with a quiet murmur of _‘Yol_ ,’ and dispelling it just as quickly with a shake of his hand- sighing softly when the fire, set in the center of their tent, roared to life- holding his hands up to it to warm them. 

Baekhyun had seemingly made good time- as it wasn’t even thirty minutes later that he heard the sound of struggling from outside the safety of their tent- cured leather fully blocking out the wind, as intended. He chanced a glance outside, eyes widening fractionally when he found his companion… With an entire dead _Stag_ in tow- dragging it by its antlers, determination across his face. 

Chanyeol grimaced- just a few rabbits would have been _much_ more preferable- in both convenience, and ease of preparation. He decided not to comment on it, however, waiting until Baekhyun had neared, before climbing out of the tent to help him- a little taken aback when the other man just brushed him off with a terse, strained, “No, I got it.” 

Chanyeol stepped aside, hands raised in mock defense, offering no protest. 

Finally, when they reached the front of their makeshift campsite, Baekhyun dropped it to the ground with a huff, plonking himself down on a stump just a few feet away, panting heavily from the exertion. 

“Ever prepared an Elk before?” Chanyeol tried, conversationally, rummaging through his backpack for his skinning knife before setting to work. Baekhyun just offered a quick shake of his head. 

Chanyeol concluded that perhaps Baekhyun just wasn’t interested in making idle conversation today- maybe he was simply tired, unused to so much travelling on foot- but he promptly proved him wrong when he finally caught his breath, sighing softly. 

“Do you like it?” He tried, carefully, Chanyeol’s expression twisting in confusion- Like it? Preparing deer? Not… Particularly. 

“Deer meat is good- gamey, but venison isn’t something I have all too often. They’re a bit elusive around Diresong. It's too cold-” 

“No… I mean… The Elk. Do you like the Elk?” Baekhyun corrected, genuinely sounding concerned over Chanyeol’s opinion over his kill. When he didn’t answer immediately, he pressed further, gesturing towards his kill, “This one.” 

Chanyeol blinked owlishly, eyebrows furrowing momentarily before he looked towards Baekhyun, “I… Yes?” 

Baekhyun's expression still looked conflicted. 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol amended firmly, “Yeah, I do. Thank you.” 

Chanyeol tried not to look taken aback when he raised his eyes to find Baekhyun fighting back what appeared to be a smile. 

_‘Cute.’_

Baekhyun’s eyes met his just after he was struck with that thought, and the surprise on his face read loud and clear. 

Chanyeol smiled somewhat sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck, “You… You heard that.” 

“I did,” Baekhyun was quick to avert his eyes again, a flush on his face that couldn’t solely be attributed to the bite of winter against his skin. 

The rest of the evening passed in relative silence- not awkward, nor all that uncomfortable, but rather… Confused. A little anxious. Curious. 

Come nightfall, the wind picked up just as Chanyeol had predicted- their small tent providing them refuge, but also confining them to a relatively small space- tent not quite big enough for either of them to stand, but not so tight that they had to be touching if they wanted to be inside of it. With little else to do, Chanyeol deemed it fit to turn in early for the night, ensuring to stoke the fire before climbing into his bedroll- back to the side of the tent. 

“You should get some rest,” Chanyeol suggested, expectant. “Long day tomorrow, it’ll be an uphill journey until we make it out of the hold.” 

Baekhyun nodded, seemingly in consideration, but made no move to do so, facing the fire with his knees drawn up, bare, reptilian feet as close to the flame as they could be without disturbing the structure of the small campfire. Chanyeol frowned, but otherwise shrugged it off. 

But when, an hour later, Baekhyun still sat, unmoving, Chanyeol breathed out a soft sigh, eyes shut, and breathing even. 

_‘If I say you can share my bed with me, would that convince you to come lay down and sleep?’_

He bit back a laugh as his gentle coercion pushed Baekhyun into motion once more- making haste as he crawled over to his side of the tent and slipping in beneath his furs, right beside him. Chanyeol raised his arm, and as if on queue, Baekhyun's head found his shoulder, body pressed flush up against his side. 

The pair fell asleep just as they would have normally, but not before Chanyeol came to the striking realization that this… Had _become_ their norm- so much so that Baekhyun seemingly refused to even sleep in his own bed, just two feet away. Quite frankly, Chanyeol wasn't all too keen on the idea of falling asleep without the smaller nestled into his side, either- without the constant assurance that he was there. 

And the constant assurance that he wasn't _going_ anywhere, either. His little, human-sized heater- much warmer than even the fire burning behind him, and at least ten times as comforting. 

The majority of the fortnight progressed with only a few minor hitches along the way- like Chanyeol losing his fishing-rod, with Baekhyun watching as the might of his catch tore it right from his grasp- bursting into hysterics, laughing so hard he’d nearly peed his pants. That had only been day four, just after they’d cleared one hold and breached the next, greeted by the chilly arctic tundra. The fishing rod was a lost cause, and Chanyeol had sulked for the rest of the evening. With the abundant vegetation, the land was admittedly a lot more hospitable- they were no longer required to spend the entire evening holed up in the safety of their tent. 

From the first day onwards, Chanyeol made a point of setting up the interior of the tent with the fire on one side, and their bedding on the other- the late nights would still get unforgivingly cold, even without the constant snowfall. The fire was a permanent fixture, but also gave Baekhyun a better excuse to sleep so close to him- not that he needed one. 

The evening of day five, Baekhyun presented Chanyeol with a new fishing rod, Chanyeol staring at it in confusion- looking between Baekhyun and the rod repeatedly. 

“Where… How… You didn’t make this-” He commented, as he eyed the construction. On one side, there were initials carved into the polished wood- a fine piece of fishing equipment. Likely a gift, to someone, at some point. 

“I found it,” Baekhyun shrugged, innocuous, “Do you like it?” 

Chanyeol bit back the urge to ask Baekhyun why he kept presenting him with various obscure gifts and asking if he liked them- there was a nagging feeling, in the back of his mind, that the pattern should have been familiar, somehow. That he should have been able to easily identify the cause. He shrugged it off for the time being- the matter wasn’t of immediate importance. 

“I do, it’s nice, thank you.” Chanyeol chewed on his lower lip, “But… This belongs to someone else, Baekhyun,” He tried, eyes imploring. 

But Baekhyun’s expression didn’t change- not even a flicker of remorse or shame crossing his face. 

Finally, he conceded with a nod, still entirely dismissive, “But they weren’t using it,” Baekhyun supplied, as if that justified his thievery. 

Chanyeol sighed, shaking his head. “You can’t just… Take-” 

Baekhyun arched an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest. “They were dead. If they _were_ to ever come back, I can assure you that it wouldn’t be to go _fishing._ ” 

“Oh.” Chanyeol answered, eloquently. “Then… Okay. Thank you.” He smiled, a little wobbly. Baekhyun, even after months, continued to be nearly _impossible_ for him to read. His facial expressions.. Body language. They were all _off-_ off, in human standards. Off, from what he’d already long adjusted to. 

And though he was reluctant to admit it, to give the words power, it was driving him _insane. Baekhyun_ was driving him insane. The last thing he wanted to do was severely misinterpret his intentions or desires- but Baekhyun was hardly being transparent with him. He could have, quite easily, just conveyed his feelings and thoughts through transference- that would have been _much_ simpler, and much easier to understand. He couldn’t help but find it a little ironic, as a member from a race of supposed all-knowing beings, he still couldn’t understand the tells of one of his own. 

One thing he could discern, and with relative certainty, was the fact that his travelling companion was growing increasingly agitated with each passing day. Something… Something was bothering him, he just hadn’t a clue as to _what._

On day nine, now on land barren of snow, and lush with life- trees full, leaves blowing in the light wind, the sun shone upon them, kind, caressing- but by mid-afternoon, it was beating down against them instead- forcing them to peel out of their layers of leathers, which had replaced their previous furs, before stuffing them into their bags after stopping for a brief water break. Chanyeol hadn't anticipated it being _this_ hot. His frame of reference _was_ quite narrow, in his defense. 

He stripped down to the bare minimum while still remaining inconspicuous to others- a loose tunic, collar untied, exposing his chest and the dip of his collarbones, thin cloth gloves instead of the usual hide, and wool-knit canvas trousers that tied shut at the hips, tucked into low-cut boots, designed to wick away the sweat from his skin and help regulate his body temperature. On his head, sat a wide-brimmed felt hat- preventing the sun from blinding him or shining in his face. 

Baekhyun dawned a similar set of attire, the exception being the hat on his head replaced with the hood of his burlap cloak- specifically worn to hide the length of his tail. For the same purpose, Chanyeol kept his overcoat tied about his waist- certain features were a dead giveaway to others, particularly those who thought to look for them. 

Like the band of imperial guards they encountered after skirting around a small establishment- awhile before reaching their intended destination for the night. 

Baekhyun froze in his tracks, heels digging into the dirt when Chanyeol took his hand to pull him along, hissing beneath his breath for Baekhyun to move along or he'd risk giving them away. 

Thankfully, travelling this close to the small settlement, they remained relatively inconspicuous- regarded as nothing more than passerbys, and only when they were completely out of sight, could Baekhyun allow himself the chance to breathe. He'd meant to journey a few hours further out that evening, but Baekhyun appeared to be much too shaken for Chanyeol to subject him to that- just nodding, numbly, when Chanyeol lightly suggested they stop for the day. 

Venturing into a small clearing, at the edge of the narrow river which ran through the province, they set up camp- the campfire now safely created outside of the tent, with their shared body warmth alone being more than enough now to make it through the cool nights. The sun hadn't yet set, leaving the air warm, with the coverage of the forestry giving them privacy. 

Baekhyun was able to unwind, by watching Chanyeol, after he'd rolled up the legs of his pants and the sleeves of his shirt, as he jumped into the cool water with a long sigh- wading through the river to check the depth- staring down into it, before suddenly ducking down- thrusting his hand into the water and making a loud sound of protest when he stood back up to find his hands empty. 

His initial reaction was shock, the second, was laughter- especially with the hilarity of the situation, and the expression on Chanyeol’s face; indignant. 

Chanyeol looked at him, glaring half-heartedly and spreading his arms out. “What?” He challenged, pouting. “You think you can do better?” 

Baekhyun struggled to calm himself, trailing off into quieter giggles before heaving in a deep breath, shaking his head incredulously. “I have no idea what you’re trying to do,” He confessed, shrugging, a grin still in place. “So, you just look… A little bit silly.” 

“There’s salmon in here, they’re usually.. A lot easier to catch by hand,” He mumbled, defensive, as Baekhyun’s smirk failed to disappear. “Fine. _You_ try it, then,” He frowned, planting his hands on the riverbank to heave himself up out of the water, looking back at Baekhyun expectantly. “Go on, try.” 

Baekhyun shed his cloak and went about rolling up his trousers and sleeves just as Chanyeol had, only moments prior, shrugging at the dare- he didn’t have anything to lose in doing so, particularly with him never having even attempted it before. 

“Okay, so, go into the middle of the river… Yeah, like that,” Baekhyun turned to him, awaiting further instruction. “Now… You need to be _very_ still- don’t make any sudden movements, not until you’re absolute-” 

Baekhyun startled him into silence when he completely disregarded his careful instruction to abruptly thrust his hands into the water- movements precise, honed, eyes narrowed, and when he came back up, it was to Chanyeol’s temporarily bruised ego and pride. 

Chanyeol’s jaw dropped, eyes widening in disbelief. Part of him wanted to just chalk it up to sheer beginners luck, but the larger part of him couldn’t bear to do that with the expression of clear triumph written across Baekhyun’s face. Instead, he sighed softly, closing his eyes to gather himself before nodding and slowly clapping his hands. “Okay. Yeah. That was… Definitely better.” 

His mouth fell open again, though, when, much to his chagrin, just moments later, Baekhyun purposefully released the fish back into the water and stood back up, wading over to the riverbank to sit down beside him. 

“What… You let it go?!” He cried, affronted, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. 

“I did,” Baekhyun shrugged. “You challenged me to do better than you, so I did.” 

“You’re terrible,” Chanyeol scrubbed his palm over his face, chuckling softly. 

His eyes narrowed again, when Baekhyun gently nudged him with his elbow, echoing his earlier statement with a mocking, but wholly playful, “Go on, _try.”_

So he did- fully aware that he’d only further embarrass himself- but all-too willing to do so, as long as it earned him Baekhyun’s continuous laughter, a light, airy sound, so careless- and beautiful. Just like him. 

_Just like him._

Feelings were a dangerous thing to lose control of, Chanyeol had always known that. 

So why was it then, that he _still_ found himself losing control of his emotions so easily? With just a few lingering glances, a word or two, and a nudge here or there? 

Ultimately, he did know why- and so did Baekhyun. 

So _had_ Baekhyun, since even before he’d fully discovered Chanyeol’s true disposition. His real nature. His soul, and his heart; and the pain he had hidden deep inside of it. 

And part of that pain, was acknowledging that he could _feel-_ or rather, that he was _allowed_ to do so. That his capacity for emotions wasn’t stunted, but rather he’d suppressed them as an involuntary self-defense mechanism. If he didn’t allow himself to feel, no one, and nothing could hurt him. 

The hints he’d laid down, the glances he’s sent, the courtship he’d attempted, and the blatant flirting- Baekhyun having even resorted to the most primitive of methods in bringing him offerings in an attempt to impress him; his _kills_ , and gifts. 

But he knew, perhaps even more than Chanyeol did, that Chanyeol was _scared_. That he’d become so complaisant in his solitude, that he’d readily and voluntarily adopted a quiet life of hiding, stowed away the very edge of his city like something that wasn’t to be seen. 

It was… Heartbreaking- both as his kin, and as someone he had come to irrefutably care about. 

Baekhyun, even having been held in captivity at the hands of the Imperials for literal ages, _still_ had never given up, had never even considered it- his confinement had been incredibly boring, so much so that he’d learned to dissociate, soul temporarily absent from the body of the beast, drained of magic, and cowed. 

Yet of the two of them, it was Chanyeol, even in his relative freedom, who was so undeniably _broken_. 

Which was precisely why Baekhyun had never even recognized what he _truly_ was, until it was spelled out to him. 

As a dragon, as a _Dov_ , in order for his heart to be fully and truly healed of it’s past wounds and abrasions, his soul so very desperately needed mending- both scarred harshly, beyond recognition. 

After being met with little success in his endeavour, Chanyeol waded over to the bank- startling when Baekhyun suddenly reached out to grab him by the arm and roughly pulled him over to stand in front of him- entrapping him with his arms around his shoulders and one leg around the backs of his thighs. Nose-to-nose, eyes locked, completely taking him off-guard where he stood, frozen, for all of a few seconds, just before Baekhyun tripped him by using his leg to push at the backs of his knees while throwing his body weight forward- sending them both toppling over into the cool, waist-deep waters. 

With Baekhyun’s blue eyes staring into his own, he couldn’t tear his gaze away, pulse thundering in his ears, not even the initial shock of being pushed into the river able to shake him. It was only when his lungs began straining for breath that he had to come back up, easily bearing all of Baekhyun’s weight, who was tightly wrapped around them- waiting for exactly that. 

They both gasped as they broke the surface, Chanyeol panting softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Wh-” He began, but he couldn’t even get a single word out before Baekhyun’s lips were silencing him; crashing against his own- holding neither a semblance of tenderness nor softness as he kissed what little breath he’d regained, right back out of him again. 

Only this time, he didn’t allow him to surface- leaving them both to gasp for air in between each harsh kiss- Chanyeol’s hands finding Baekhyun’s hips to hitch him further up- lifting him onto the riverbank and climbing on top of him- hips between Baekhyun’s splayed legs. But his hands didn’t otherwise wander, nor did his body otherwise move- leading Baekhyun to turn the tables by flipping them over, Chanyeol now flat on his back, with Baekhyun’s knees on either side of Chanyeol’s hips; straddling him. His hands came up to cup at his neck and jaw, groaning against his mouth as Chanyeol’s large hands rubbed at his thighs, sliding up to his waist, and then back down again; a slow, repetitive stroking motion. Apparently, Baekhyun taking the lead, had properly relayed the message. 

Finally, Baekhyun broke away for air- both panting heavily, harshly, chests heaving, and sending Chanyeol into a fit of breathless laughter- fading just as quickly when he watched Baekhyun pull at the ties of his own shirt to tug it off over his head. 

When the reality of the situation caught up with him, Chanyeol couldn’t help but flush a little under his intense gaze. Baekhyun made pause, hands braced on either side of his head, eyebrow cocked. 

“I-isn’t this… A bit fast?” He tried, weakly, averting his eyes, before Baekhyun forced him to meet his gaze again when he jerked his chin up after hooking a finger underneath it- eyes narrowed. 

“Are you really that out of touch with yourself?” He questioned, not unkindly, but to hopefully incite the nature he _knew_ laid buried beneath this facade of his. 

“It’s been… So long. Usually… Humans, they don’t-” 

Baekhyun cut him off curtly, “You’re not a human. Neither am I,” he urged Chanyeol to raise his arms, allowing him to pull his shirt off before tossing it to the side. 

“It doesn’t need to be this complicated. You _know_ how this should have went,” He pressed, and Chanyeol jolted beneath him when he rolled his hips down as if to punctuate the words. 

“I don’t… I don’t think I understa- _ah- oh_ ,” he couldn’t bite back the moan Baekhyun elicited from him as he repeated the action, this time more slowly, more deliberately. 

“There’s two things. _Two_ things, which two unrelated, unfamiliar Dov will do, when they encounter one another on one or the other’s territory, by nature,” He wasn’t angry, but he _was_ irritated, it _should_ have been obvious to Chanyeol since the very beginning. 

“They can either try to kill one another, engaging in a territorial dispute, or…” He trailed off, caging him in with his forearms, gaze intense, boring into his own. 

“Or…?” Chanyeol tried, heart beating so loudly he was sure Baekhyun could hear it. 

His lips met Chanyeol's again before he offered him an answer, biting at his lower lip, and tugging, grinding down against him as he did, “Or they breed, they _fuck_.” He growled the words. 

Chanyeol's breathing hitched audibly, and he was sure his heart may have, too. 

“You know you feel that… That… Draw. That pull, beneath your skin.” 

Chanyeol could only nod in silent admission- he did. And he had. He’d just made a point of not acknowledging it. 

“Then _act_ on it,” He hissed, phrased like a demand, and sounding like a threat. “ _Show me,”_ He murmured, a little more quietly. 

That night, Chanyeol would _finally_ allow himself to lose control; and it would be the most thrilling, daring, and liberating thing he’d, perhaps, ever done. 

And it began with Chanyeol flipping them over again- this time, harbouring the intent to _keep_ it that way; Baekhyun wanted him to exert dominance, wanted him to come alive, wanted to unearth the unassailable carnal, and primitive, instinctual part of him that first _made_ him a Dov. That made him a beast- but with a sentience that separated him from being just animal. 

Goading. Pressing him. Challenging him; all in underhanded encouragement. In a deep _need._ The instincts of a bestial race on the brink of extinction rising to the forefront, overcoming reason, overcoming reservation 

It worked, with Chanyeol having flipped them over with a snarl, gripping his hair with one hand, fumbling with the enclosure of his trousers with the other- not stopping until Baekhyun was finally fully naked beneath him- just as beautiful, if not moreso, than the day he’d first saw him in this body- now more filled out, healthier, _happier_. 

As luck would have it, the skies had grown overcast amidst their initial tustle, sun gone into hiding, and the first drop of rain against his back telling of a storm- a fleeting one, not unusual for the region they were in, but terribly inconvenient all the same. Or… At least, it would have been, had Chanyeol retained the presence of mind to put it on pause to relocate to their tent, perhaps de escalating the situation. 

But the part of him that he couldn’t control, the part of him that Baekhyun _wanted_ the most, overlooking even a semblance of reason, paid it no heed- it didn’t matter. What mattered… What mattered, was having the male beneath him, pressed into the ground, bucking up against him in an attempt to gain friction. So eager, so wound up; only amplified by the display of dominance. The _feeling_ of powerlessness; readily baring his neck to someone, something, who could just as easily have killed him in an instant. 

Although, in a much more figurative sense, he’d already done _precisely_ that the moment he’d trusted Chanyeol to guide him to safety, all those months ago, where he’d have otherwise been left to be buried beneath the rapidly falling snow. 

It hadn’t been without reason, and it hadn’t been due to the spell he’d murmured beneath his breath at the time, one which would have calmed any other beast; one that specifically _didn’t_ work on either Dov, nor humans. 

Chanyeol’s mouth found his neck, teeth digging into the sensitive skin, insides burning with the keen the action earned him- so he repeated it, attacking, mauling his neck, revelling in the way he unravelled so easily, in the way he offered himself, with his head thrown back, back arched, and legs splayed. 

And smelling so, so _sweet._ So… So… 

Chanyeol buried his face into his neck, scenting him, inhaling deeply, green eyes alight, before he lapped over the area, tasting his skin. “ _Ripe,”_ He hissed, a firm statement, and Baekhyun, despite himself, flushed with the wording. So simple, just a singular phrase, yet so dirty- the implication behind it. The meaning it offered- especially seeing as, had he wanted, their positions could just as easily have been reversed. Baekhyun could have had Chanyeol beneath him, instead. Could have had Chanyeol grinding up against him, completely naked and pressed into the grass, instead. 

And the outcome would have been the same; another measure they could owe to both evolution, and their existence as entirely magical beings; Dov simply were _Dov_ ; without a true sex. Just as easily receptive, as they were productive. 

Slowly but surely, Chanyeol drove him to the edge, Baekhyun thinly retaining his grasp on control- no longer able to even stay still as he writhed, bucked beneath him, his claws digging into his back, raking down Chanyeol’s skin, eliciting a satisfying hiss. Finally, Chanyeol was spurred into motion peeling off his own trousers, tail raised, swaying above him- ears perked, hind talons sinking into the damp earth. He began kissing down his chest, eyes roving over, devouring his body, one last time, before he _ruined_ it. 

Baekhyun jolted, and keened, as he took one nipple into his mouth- hot, and wet, sucking on the sensitive skin, cock throbbing against his stomach, already so painfully turned on even without the added stimulation. The heat between his legs only grew- leaking, pooling, disgustingly wet, body more than ready. 

And his face flamed red as Chanyeol moved downwards, flinging a forearm over his eyes to avoid the initial embarrassment of seeing his reaction- the polar opposite of cool and unaffected, as Chanyeol had, perhaps, once, perceived him to be. 

As though to add to it, he grunted out a low, “Spread,” eyes darkening as Baekhyun did, almost instantaneously, baring everything to him readily, now. 

He squeaked, when Chanyeol grabbed the backs of his knees and hitched them up, exposing him even further, and Chanyeol could swear he almost lost it right there, eyes tracing the curve of his tight ass and generous thighs, the width of his hips alone sending him reeling. 

The way his hole clenched between his legs, smooth, pinkened, and glistening with slick- Chanyeol faring no better in that same regard. 

The way his clawed toes curled as he ducked down to place his mouth right on top of it- lapping a fat stripe over the opening, before dipping his tongue right into him- slick sweet, honey-like on his tongue. He alternated, sucking and slurping- obliging when Baekhyun weakly, breathlessly demanded more, stomach tensed, arousal coiled painfully tight inside him. 

He gave him one finger, and then another- two cool, thick digits plunging into him, easily sliding in and out of his entrance, now relaxed, craving more. He deserved to be stuffed, but first, he deserved to feel what would make his entire body tingle and his cock spill all over his chest and neck. 

A third digit, tongue lapping in between and around them, and Chanyeol began fucking him on one hand- roughly and rapidly plunging his fingers in and out of him until he was writhing, crying out loudly, stomach tensing. 

And he came with a silent scream- entire body tensing, insides clenching down around his fingers as his eyes rolled- Chanyeol's pace not once letting up, covering himself in his own release, while a gush of his slick dripped out from around Chanyeol’s fingers and tongue. 

He heaved a sharp gasp, weakly pushing at Chanyeol's hand, muscles contracting intermittently as he spasmed through the aftershocks of his intense release. 

Finally, Chanyeol let up, gently releasing his hold on the backs of his legs to allow him to lie down- catching his breath for a few seconds, as he came down from the intense body high. 

When he was able, he glared up at Chanyeol half-heartedly- eyes widening a fraction with the wetness on his face and neck. 

“Felt good?” He tried, staring intently. He smiled softly when Baekhyun tentatively nodded. 

“Good,” Chanyeol continued. “But we're not done.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. _Of course_ they weren't done. 

He easily climbed in between Baekhyun’s thighs- haphazardly spread apart in the same way they’d landed when Chanyeol had let him back down again. 

“I hope not,” Baekhyun sighed, arching a brow, laughing a little breathlessly. “As far as I know, it’s not mating unless you _actually_ have sex.” 

“Well, fortunately, that can be arranged,” he quipped easily, noting the way Baekhyun’s eyes dropped down to where he was pulling down his own underwear- the smaller groaning as his cock sprung free- girthy, and long- just like the rest of his impressive physique. Working as a blacksmith was no easy task, let alone a job one spent idly- and it showed. 

Baekhyun wanted to put his mouth all over him. 

Suddenly, Chanyeol chuckled, Baekhyun’s eyes narrowing in confusion. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the chance to do that later-” Ah, so he’d heard the sentiment. Figures. He’d meant it, in any case. 

“But for now, can you spread for me?” His voice dropped dangerously low, eyes lidded, being dripping with seduction, and Baekhyun only thinly suppressed a whimper as he obliged him, spreading his legs apart as far as they’d go. 

“If this were a true mating…” Chanyeol began, biting his lip as he stroked himself to full hardness, shuddering when Baekhyun moaned at the sight, the smaller reaching down to hold the backs of his knees- pulling them up against his chest, chest and neck flushed with intensifying arousal. 

“I’d take you on your hands and knees, right now-” Baekhyun’s eyes narrowed in disapproval- but not for the reason Chanyeol had initially assumed- proven by the fact that Chanyeol chuckled at the shift in his demeanour. 

“If you think i’m intimidated, or threatened, I certainly wouldn’t be underneath you spreading myself open for you right now,” Baekhyun hissed out. 

“Then? Why the face?” Chanyeol teased, genuinely curious all the same. 

“Need to see you when you fuck me,” he bit at his lower lip, unabashed- too turned on to second guess himself. 

“Don’t trust me to do it right?” He pressed, a grin on his face- promptly wiped off with Baekhyun’s response. 

“No, I just want to have this imprinted into my memory.” 

“You’ve never…” Chanyeol trailed off, eyes widening a fraction when Baekhyun shook his head, shrugging. 

“I haven’t. Never found anyone suitable, in the past, nor, obviously, the present.” A pause, “Well… At least, not until now.” 

“ _Divines,_ ” Chanyeol groaned, eyes fluttering shut as he braced himself, taking a few deep breaths. “You’re going to be the death of me, you will.” 

“I count on it,” Baekhyun hummed, a little smugly- reaching out for Chanyeol and smiling a little when he ducked down to allow him to pull him closer, to where their faces were level, eyes on his lips, before he arched his neck to meet them with his own- kissing him slowly, softly, in sharp contrast to the earlier desperation and the urgency which hadn’t yet been dispelled. 

“Now _fuck me,”_ He whispered, taking pleasure in the full body shudder Chanyeol gave in response. 

One second, his cock was pressing against his entrance, smearing precum over his skin, and the next he was sheathing it inside of him- eliciting a chorus of groans from them both- Baekhyun tensing involuntarily as his back arched, eyes clenched shut and teeth gritting in discomfort. He threw his arms around Chanyeol’s shoulders, burying his face in his neck- exhaling shakily when his hands found his waist, stroking his soft skin. 

Unbeknownst to himself, he was trembling- and Chanyeol hushed him- squeezing him in reassurance as he paused his movements- encouraging him to relax. It took him a few, long, painful seconds, but he did, taking in long, careful breaths, soothed by the motion of Chanyeol’s hands- one stroking his side, the other stroking along the length of his hip and thigh- dipping down intermittently to rub at the small of his back. 

“You’re alright?” He whispered, wary of breaking the silence, and Baekhyun nodded jerkily, laying back beneath him and spreading his legs as far as he could- aided by Chanyeol taking the initiative to hold his knees apart for him as he moved again- groaning hoarsely, struck by how _ridiculously_ tight Baekhyun’s, admittedly, smaller body was around him. Finally, when their hips met, Chanyeol allowed himself to breathe- making pause, forehead hitting Baekhyun’s shoulder, whose hands came up to stroke through his hair. 

“Positive?” Chanyeol tried again, shakily, and Baekhyun nodded in response, offering him a wobbly smile- which promptly vanished when Chanyeol was immediately spurred into motion again- drawing his hips back, in one long, slow stroke, before sliding back into his heat again- Baekhyun’s head falling back against the ground, back arched with the unfamiliar, but not unpleasant, sensation of the other’s cock fucking in and out of him. 

It started slowly, and unsteadily- but gradually, they found a rhythm- undeterred by the sky raining down upon them, undeterred by the lightning striking through the sky, and the thunder rolling above them- in that moment, the world could have been ending, and _nothing_ would have mattered- nothing… Nothing, except _this._ This… _Thing_ they had between them. This passion, this desperation- this deep, carnal need, and craving to touch, and to feel. 

It wasn’t graceful, it wasn’t soft, and it certainly wasn’t perfect- at least, not by any human standard- but by their own, just their meeting, their bodies being so entirely twined, wrapped up in one another; _that_ was perfection. _That_ was fulfilling. Perhaps, even fate- if one were to even believe in such a thing. 

It got better, though, instincts coming into play- not just fucking, but _mating._ Harsh, and bestial; primitive, and all the more passionate for it- emphasized by the fact that Chanyeol ended up pulling out of him to flip him onto his hands and knees despite Baekhyun’s earlier insistence to see him take him apart from the inside out- fucking him into the ground, with hard, relentless thrusts. Groaning, growling, with Baekhyun responding in kind- rocking backwards to meet his thrusts, back arched _just_ so, _just_ for Chanyeol to hit the spot inside of him that made him cry out and shudder with pleasure, that made his claws dig into the earth, uprooting grass, and made the arousal burn in his stomach even more intensely than it had before, cock drooling precum, and body slick, impossibly wet, around him- coating the back of his own thighs, and Chanyeol’s groin; eliciting sloppy, squelching sounds that were only thinly disguised by the sound of the storm currently ongoing. 

It wasn’t what either of them could ever had imagined- because the feeling involved alone was entirely unprecedented. Just how much _passion_ either of them could feel, just how deeply their souls could be entwined, weaving together so completely, so entirely, that separation would be nigh impossible. Their bonding was something that came out of their mutual passion- sealed, by the intimacy and emotionality involved in the act of mating- a union surmised by what the Dovah could, perhaps, define as love, and the magic that ran through their veins which made them so. 

. 

He fucked him with purpose, spurred on by the pitch of his moans, and the way he tightened around his cock when he got the angle _just_ right- the scent of his arousal, and the fact that Baekhyun was equally as turned on as he was. What made it better, what encouraged him further, was the fact that the smaller was _enjoying_ himself- going so far as to fuck himself back against his cock, moaning, whimpering with abandon, with Chanyeol faring no better. 

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, it could have been days- but for all intents and purposes, time, in that moment, ceased to exist between them. All that mattered… Was them. All that mattered… Was _this._

Of course, they’d, eventually, need to return to the present- bodies drenched from the rain which hadn’t let up in the least; steam rolling off their skin in waves, respective body temperatures rising from the exertion and the intensity of the emotions felt- the pleasure would surmount, coiling so, so, impossibly tightly inside of them both, before _finally_ springing forth. Chanyeol’s grip tightened on his hips, teeth sinking into his shoulder, as he found his release, fucking him through it harshly, pace faltering, stuttering to a slow, halting grind as he spilled, hot and copious, inside of him- filling him so entirely that it spilled over, dripping down the backs of his trembling thighs. The sensation spurred on Baekhyun’s own, second, climax- body strung tight, insides clenching down around him as his breath hitched, before he came with a loud, uninhibited cry- entire body shaking, even more intensely than it had the first time around. 

They both slumped to the ground, some seconds later- chests heaving, panting harshly, winded, and wholly _exhausted._ How long they’d spent wrapped up in one another, was impossible for either of them to discern- but one thing they could say with certainty was that they were both entirely, and beyond spent of their energy. Chanyeol only made to pull out some minutes later- their bodies both a mess, but the patter of the rain aiding them in washing it away… Which was all good and well, until the exhaustion finally caught up with them, and their body temperatures plummeted. With no insignificant amount of effort, Chanyeol heaved them both up to retreat into the confines of their tent- ungracefully splaying out across their furs, a smile gracing his face when he felt Baekhyun’s fingers twine with his own- something that spoke of so much more than it could have, realistically, in any other scenario. They fell asleep just like that, laying side by side, exhaustion consuming them both; and they slept soundly through the night, in spite of the unforgiving storm still raging outside. 

  
¶ _𝔗𝔯𝔲𝔢... 𝔅𝔲𝔱 𝔮𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔦𝔡 - 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔥𝔢𝔠𝔶 - 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔶 𝔟𝔢, 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔢._ ¶ 

  


It was with herculean effort that they both managed to peel themselves from their bed come morning- both a little sore; Baekhyun, understandably, a little _more_ so. If he noticed Chanyeol packing more into his own bag than usual, he didn’t make a point of saying anything. The beginning of their pace was measured, slowed, stretching tired muscles which went unused more often than not- bodies sore in ways neither of them had experienced to such a severe degree. The sun was peeking through the trees, and the birds were chirping, singing, the sound of _life_ all around them- filling them with a definite sense of tranquility. 

For a morning after, it wasn’t awkward, nor stiff- conversation was light, came easily, but they were both quite content to begin their journey in relative silence- enjoying the all-encompassing sounds of nature as they trekked out of the forest and made it back to the main road. Unlike what Chanyeol had initially professed, he suggested they take a short break a few hours in- and Baekhyun didn’t protest- not until Chanyeol suggested he lay down on the grass for a few moments. 

Chanyeol shook his head, smiling fondly at the way Baekhyun looked at him like he’d suggested the unfathomable- lay down on the _ground?_ For what? 

“Trust me,” Chanyeol encouraged, holding his hands up in mock defense. “You trusted me yesterday, didn’t you?” 

Baekhyun’s eyes narrowed, cheeks flushing, “Shut up.” He bit out. 

“Twice, if I recall correctly…” He continued, smirking at the other Dovah’s scowl. 

“Fine, see?” He began, shrugging out of his pack and sprawling out on his front as Chanyeol had suggested- glaring half-heartedly. “I’m laying down on the ground now, are you happy?” 

“You’re saying it like it’s for my own gain,” Chanyeol began, dropping his bag beside Baekhyun’s as he made to straddle the backs of his calves- Baekhyun looking up at him in alarm. 

“What are you-” He began, a little distrustfully. 

“Shh,” Chanyeol hushed, bringing his hands down to touch the backs of his thighs- rubbing gently, at first, urging Baekhyun to relax, before actively massaging at the tight, strained muscles- making a point of ignoring the soft moans and whimpers he earned as he worked up his legs, the small of his back, his shoulders, and back down again- hands working magic on his sore body. 

Baekhyun didn’t thank him- at least, not verbally, but he may have pulled him in for a quick kiss, a few minutes after they began walking again- body, suddenly, a lot lighter, and a lot more energized by extension. 

Ultimately, not a lot had changed- at least, not on the surface. Their personalities were the same, their mannerisms were the same, only now they shared a _complete_ mutual understanding, where they hadn’t before. The bond, too, was tangible- sealed. 

  
¶ _𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔥𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔬 𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔡. 𝔇𝔯𝔢𝔥 𝔫𝔦 𝔫𝔞𝔥𝔨𝔦𝔭. 𝔇𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔦𝔭𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔞𝔤𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔦𝔡𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔮𝔞𝔥𝔫𝔞𝔞𝔯... 𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔦𝔞𝔩 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯._ ¶ 

  


“Are you nervous?” Chanyeol murmured, the front entrance of Ravenpoint now within sight, having made it safely past the border of the hold just the day prior. “Excited?” 

Baekhyun heaved a deep sigh, nibbling at his lower lip- apprehensive. The very moment they’d crossed the border, he’d felt a sudden and inexplicable sense of dread wash over him- weighing heavily on his consciousness. But to voice such aloud, would give the words too much power, would give them plausibility- and he didn’t want to believe them. 

“I don’t know how to feel,” He admitted. “But…” 

“You’re scared,” Chanyeol murmured gently, smiling sadly when Baekhyun nodded reluctantly. 

“I am,” He confessed. “Even now, I can’t hear him,” He continued, eyes gazing up at the overcast skies- it was going to rain again- perhaps even more harshly than the storm they’d braved a few evenings prior. 

“And I should be able to. I should have been able to, the moment we breached the hold.” He was working himself up- panic consuming him, and Chanyeol made pause, clasping his shoulder, squeezing gently, forcing him to look at him. 

“Don’t assume the worst. We’ll deal with it as it comes, no?” He smiled, gently, eyes searching. 

Those words… Those words had him relaxing, sighing softly, returning the smile- a bit wobbly. _We’ll deal with it_ , Chanyeol had said- and he was right. Baekhyun wasn’t dealing with it on his own- he had Chanyeol with him, now. 

Chanyeol took his hand, some moments later- threading their gloved fingers together, frowning softly as they neared- the guard standing in front of the city entrance too, now, within view. 

“Act natural, and let me do the talking,” It wasn’t a suggestion, but Baekhyun wouldn’t have questioned it either way- the mere sight of even city guards, not necessarily of any relation to the imperial order, was enough to put him off kilter. He nodded in agreement, more than happy to allow Chanyeol to take the lead on this. 

Chanyeol nodded in acknowledgement when the city guard murmured a curt, “Greetings, travellers. What brings you south?” A pause, eyes darting between them. “Can’t say i’ve seen either of you come this way before.” As a smaller city, it was only natural that the few guards that manned the overhanging entryway would remember the faces of newcomers- it was their job, to keep an eye out for any potential suspicious individuals. 

Chanyeol smiled easily, exuding charm in such a way that the guard immediately was at ease in his presence, going so far as to offer a small smile in return. 

“We’re here to make arrangements with Runil,” He offered, Baekhyun’s eyebrows furrowing with the way the nameless man’s smile fell, nodding in what appeared to be apparent understanding. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” He offered, “My deepest condolences. Hopefully, otherwise, you’ll enjoy your stay in Ravenpoint. You both can head right in- the Shrine is off the main road, on your second right, the path leading towards a little worn, but you should find your way no problem.” 

After murmuring a brief _thank-you,_ they headed in, Chanyeol never letting go of his hand all the while. 

Out of earshot, and out of sight, Baekhyun murmured, quietly, “Who is Runil?” 

Chanyeol smiled a little in recollection, “I don’t know him personally,” Chanyeol admitted, shrugging. “I just know he’s been the gravekeeper here for a very, _very_ long time. He’s well-versed in the ways of conjuration, and a Priest of the shrine here.” 

“Now… Your brother,” Chanyeol began, humming thoughtfully. “Do you have any idea as to where we should begin looking?” 

Although he didn’t profess it aloud, his immediate thought of, ‘ _The nearest Graveyard,’_ didn’t go unheard. 

Still, Chanyeol encouraged him to remain optimistic. “Come, now. We didn’t travel all this way for you to assume the worst.” 

“Chanyeol…” Baekhyun sighed. “Realistically, if we begin there- we can figure out whether or not we should even bother to begin searching. If his name isn’t there… Perhaps he’s still alive. If it is…” He inhaled shakily, rubbing at his temples- calming when Chanyeol drew him in for a one-armed hug. 

Chanyeol didn’t _want_ to acknowledge the logic behind the statement, but he was, without a doubt, correct. 

“But are you ready to accept that reality?” He inquired gently, gaze soft- heart sinking when Baekhyun’s breath hitched, eyes growing wet. 

“No,” He choked out, shaking his head and scrubbing a hand across his face. “No, I’m not.” 

Chanyeol nodded, “We can turn around now,” He offered, “We can go right back to Diresong. Or… Anywhere you want, really. There are no time constraints on this journey of ours.” 

Baekhyun sighed sadly- hard pressed not to nod in agreement as he tried to subtly wipe at his eyes. 

“I don’t want to know, and I didn’t want to know before we came all this way, either…” He began, encouraged by Chanyeol’s unwavering expression. It wasn’t pity. Wasn’t sympathy- he only offered him silent understanding, and that was more than he could hope for. 

“But… But I _need_ to know,” Baekhyun nodded, forcing a smile, sniffling softly. “So, let’s go… Let’s go see.” 

“Okay,” Chanyeol agreed, taking his hand again and leading him up the dirt path- feeling the panic begin to radiate off of Baekhyun, the closer they neared, after the graveyard came into view. 

After Chanyeol had revealed to him just how much time had passed since he’d last seen his older brother, a part of him had known, instantaneously- even having voiced his doubtfulness. 

But the other Dov, ever the optimist, encouraged him to seek a final, solid answer- knowing, perhaps more than he did, just now much he needed one, in order to find peace, in order to move on. 

He had Chanyeol, now, whereas he hadn’t before- it was time to close a chapter that had long since passed, even if he’d never _truly_ be able to come to terms with just how many years had been stolen from him. 

Suspecting was one thing, and knowing was another… But seeing… With his own two eyes, was something else entirely. 

He felt… A lot of things, in that moment- sadness, pain, and longing, namely- for his brother. For his last remaining relative. Resentment, hatred, towards his captors for taking _this_ from him. But, perhaps most prominently, he felt numb- expression blank, ears ringing. 

Chanyeol stood back to give him space, face falling as Baekhyun sank down heavily to the ground. He didn’t cry, didn’t make a sound- and it was his continued silence that made it all the worse. 

Baekhyun had always been something of an enigma; a being, spirit, and soul, strong enough to even withstand the test of time. To, against all odds, not only make it through his centuries of imprisonment without breaking, but to successfully escape and evade his former captors. To allow himself to trust. Allow himself to love- all whilst encouraging Chanyeol to do the same. 

And there, he sat, at the foot of the grave brandishing his own older brother’s name- made evident, by the words in Dovahzul etched into stone, beneath his presumed human title. The grave was well kempt- flowers planted over top of it, showing that someone had been tending to it, alongside the grave directly to it’s left- which shared the same surname. 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there in absolute silence, legs drawn up part-way, arms wrapped around them, reminiscing over what once was. What could have been. His subspecies, the 𝔑𝔬𝔰𝔧𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔞𝔥, were unlike Chanyeol’s species primarily in that they stuck together, as families. They left their nests, but they did so with one another, and with their own parents- taking mates, starting families of their own, but only to add to the flock. To them… Family was of utmost importance. 

His brother was the last member of his flock he’d seen alive, and apparently… He’d be the final one, too. He allowed himself this; allowed himself to mourn for his inevitable loss. 

A soft clearing of a throat just behind him, startled him out of his stillness, prompting him into turning his head to see who it was- and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

Some few feet away stood a elderly male with a friendly smile, wearing deep brown robes with a thin cord wrapped twice around his waist to hold it shut- hands clasped together in front of him. 

“It isn’t often he gets visitors,” he nodded towards the the grave in front of Baekhyun.”You must have known him,” His eyes were knowing- old, and wise. Not a human- with his greyish skin, and his short elven ears. His silver hair was worn backwards- long, reaching his shoulders. 

“I did,” He murmured, softly. Wetting his lips and redirecting his gaze to said grave. “A long time ago.” 

“Hmm. He was… An odd individual,” He nodded, slowly, stepping closer. “Family was always of utmost importance to him…” 

Baekhyun began to nod before catching himself, opening his mouth to ask him _how_ he knew that- 

“He went willingly, though it wasn’t yet his time; Arkay hadn’t deemed it so. He could hardly bear a single day alone, after his wife passed- but he lived a good life, I would say.” 

“Did you… Did you know him?” Though he hadn’t been crying, his voice sounded oddly thick. 

“You might say that,” He nodded, “He was an acquaintance, for a time, until he left this plane. He had a lot to offer, had seen things no other eyes could possibly have seen.” 

The male breathed out a soft sigh, nodding, seemingly to himself. “I’m the Priest of Arkay, here at the Ravenpoint Graveyard. I see to it that souls are able to pass on to the afterlife, without delay, after their bodies die.” 

“You lament… He must have been someone of great importance to you,” He observed, “It’s not my business, but you should know that his life _truly_ was a fulfilling one- I believe he was able to pass on without regrets. I hope that knowledge is able to offer you comfort at this time.” He smiled again, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Peace be with you, friend.” He bowed his head towards Baekhyun before turning to leave, humming a quiet tune to himself as he walked away. 

Truthfully, it was. The knowledge, although not extensive, was still enough for him to find some degree of acceptance of his passing. 

Chanyeol raised his eyebrows when Baekhyun made to stand and turned towards him, eyes expressing concern, searching, and Baekhyun just offered him a small smile in response. He was okay, or at least, he would be. He’d foreseen this, and with the added detail that he’d been _happy,_ and passed on without regrets, it was time for him to move past it, too. 

He didn’t ask questions, accepting Baekhyun’s continued silence as answer enough- he’d found what he was searching for, and if he wanted to talk about it, he’d do so when he felt he was ready. 

They retreated to the sole inn in the city for the night, a small pub, at the opposite end of Ravenpoint- a welcome reprieve from the fortnight they’d spent camping outdoors- Chanyeol groaning as he collapsed onto the mattress- a single bed for two. He peered up at him, curiously, as Baekhyun pulled at his clothing, carelessly stripping down in their small room, before climbing onto the bed and crawling on top of him. 

“I'm not complaining, but…” He trailed off, eyes searching. “The timing just feels a _little_ bit inappropriate-” 

“Shut up,” Baekhyun grumbled, pulling at Chanyeol's clothing, until he too was naked- now just laying there on top of him contentedly, basking in the warmth of his skin, the heat his body gave off, and the weight of his arms around his body. 

“Did you find the answer you were looking for?” Chanyeol inquired, gently, stroking his fingers through his hair- smiling softly when Baekhyun just hummed into his neck- a noncommittal sound to accompany the thought he next projected towards him, _‘Not the one I was looking for, but I found one all the same. I can be at ease, now. He’s happy, where he is. That is far more important to me than the answer I originally sought.’_

Some seconds later, Chanyeol urged him to raise his head with a finger beneath his chin- eyes first meeting his own, before his gaze fell down to Baekhyun's mouth- soft, pink lips, and the single mole just above the right corner- subconsciously wetting his own. Their lips came together easily, naturally- soft and slow, in stark contrast to the sheer desperation they’d both displayed, the raw emotion and intensity exhibited, just a few days prior to reaching Ravenpoint. 

Chanyeol knew, before Baekhyun even did, just what it was that he needed at that moment- what type of comfort, consolation, he could offer him; firstly, by not directly addressing the cause. Secondly, distracting him from the weight of the situation _entirely_. 

Baekhyun put on a good front, displaying that he was perfectly okay, but with how their relationship now differed, Chanyeol instinctively knew better than to believe what was just on the surface- knew he needed to look beyond that. Deeper than that; but still, without prying- he’d heal, in time, and Chanyeol could only hope that he’d be able to aid him in doing so. 

He trailed kisses down his neck, taking the way he arched his head back against the sheets as further incentive- alongside the intermittent, breathy sighs and quiet moans he earned. Down his chest, and stomach, lips ghosting over one inner thigh and, when Baekhyun spread his legs apart for him, offering the opposite the same treatment. 

Before proceeding to duck down between them, Baekhyun's thighs warm against his ears as he nosed past his balls, and along the length of his hardening cock- mouthing at the heated skin. He took silent delight in the way Baekhyun's back arched as his tongue lapped along the prominent vein lining the underside, foreskin naturally pulled back beneath the head on it's own, with Chanyeol slowly but surely teasing him to full hardness. 

Before he could protest, before he could get indignant, Chanyeol was taking him into his mouth- and Baekhyun couldn't help but cry out loudly as his stomach tensed, from the sudden, borderline searing, and wet heat engulfing his length. 

How long he lasted, wasn't of any importance- even if Baekhyun didn't quite realize it, in the throes of pleasure; Chanyeol was solely doing this for him. Doing this _all_ for _him_. 

He hollowed his cheeks as he drew his head up, eyes shutting in concentration as he sucked him off- tongue swirling around his length on every other upstroke, pausing intermittently to tongue at the tip of his cock, lapping up his precum. 

It sounded filthy- wet, and obscene, Chanyeol slurping noisily around his girth, gag reflex seemingly non existent. A few times, he pulled off of him to gasp for breath, strings of sticky pre and saliva connecting his slick lips to the head of Baekhyun's throbbing cock. 

All throughout it, he moaned like he'd never tasted anything so divine; and truthfully, he _hadn't_. 

Perhaps, he was just smitten with him. Perhaps, it was just the mating bond they'd forged coming into play- allowing him to see no other, and desire no one else. Or maybe the sweetness of his slick, and peculiar taste to his cum, simply appealed to his taste buds more than any dish, or being, ever had or would. 

Maybe, it was an entirely different, carnal, hunger being satiated- the technicalities were of no importance. What was _important,_ was that Baekhyun's body, and posture, was strung tight like a bow- ready to let go with just the slip of a single finger- breath hitching on soft moans, and pitched keens, hands curled in his dark hair. Tightly, he gripped onto his horns for purchase- a haphazard attempt at grounding himself; as Chanyeol made him see _stars_ , and subsequently made him lose his grasp on reality. 

The heat coiled low in his stomach, snapped- and he came with a startlingly loud cry, eyes wide, but unseeing as he unravelled, Chanyeol continuing to suck him off through his earth-shattering climax- muscles, and body spasming, sobbing through it, for reasons unknown to him. 

At the first hint of tears, Chanyeol was pulling off of him with a soft gasp and wiping at his mouth with the back of his wrist, climbing back up to wrap him in the safety and warmth of his embrace, arms a comforting weight around him as his body trembled through the aftershocks. 

Baekhyun wasn't entirely sure, why he'd started crying- be it due to the overwhelming sensations, of something else entirely. 

All he knew with certainty, was that as he came down from the aftermath of his intense orgasm, with Chanyeol holding, rocking him through it, he felt lighter in both body, and mind- more so than he'd felt for a long, long time. 

And in simply being able to get him there, in being able to help him reach that point, Chanyeol could share the sentiment. 

  
¶ _T𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔢𝔩𝔰𝔢 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔭𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔬𝔭𝔥𝔶 𝔱𝔬 𝔞 𝔡𝔬𝔳𝔞𝔥. ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔬 𝔞𝔠𝔠𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔴𝔢 𝔡𝔬 𝔟𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔗𝔥𝔲'𝔲𝔪, 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔙𝔬𝔦𝔠𝔢𝔰. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔬 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔡𝔢𝔟𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔟𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔞 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔬𝔫. 𝔗𝔦𝔫𝔳𝔞𝔞𝔨 𝔩𝔬𝔰 𝔤𝔯𝔞𝔥. 𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔲𝔰 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔢._ ¶ 

  


Their inevitable return to Diresong, wasn’t spent in mourning or lament- for whenever his thoughts took a dark turn, Chanyeol would be right there beside him to help redirect them elsewhere- a worthy distraction. Whatever it was Chanyeol had to show, or tell him, was far more important than what couldn’t be changed. Was far more important than drowning in his own sorrow or heartache; he met reality with grim acceptance, but _acceptance_ , all the same. 

And if not for Chanyeol… He wasn’t certain he’d have been able to bear the weight of it all on his own. 

Their version of ‘love,’ went unsaid, like much of what they felt, but did not go _unheard-_ relayed instead through acts of passion, and desire. Through lingering glances, and touches that never truly left. Woven together so completely, in essence, they’d become one, single entity- and in two single halves, neither could be whole without the other. 

No… What they shared… And what they'd become, surpassed any human measure of said _love_ that could possibly exist on the plain of Nirn. 

Through that, they could finally heal the scars that they'd long thought could never be fully mended, nor simply forgotten- some things would remain; their memories, their ties- but unlike before, they would no longer find themselves living in the past. 

The present was far too precious for that. 

While he'd already had an inkling, already had his suspicions, nothing could ever have prepared him from the tidal wave of emotion that would overwhelm him when he received the closest thing to a direct, verbal confirmation he could possibly get. 

“What do you think about the Astgaror Mountains?” He began, casually, making a point of not meeting his gaze- suddenly oddly interested in the unchanging skies. 

Chanyeol's initial reaction was one of confusion- eyebrows furrowed, ready to shake his head in disbelief at the random inquiry... 

Only, the question _wasn't_ random- and he entertained the possibility only briefly, choking out a, “B- Baekhyun?” 

Disbelieving, but for another reason entirely. 

“I was considering heading North-East- Diresong isn’t far, and I’ve heard it’s accommodating to the Dovah- humans are unable to scale it, and there are no secret passes. We’d need to fly- but, there’s talk of other dragons, and of a potential oncoming war- and Diresong isn’t exactly the most heavily guarded of cities. Perhaps… After things have calmed, we can return there.” He hummed in consideration, tapping his chin, “Or, maybe somewhere a little warmer, if you’re not opposed- but a small settlement, somewhere in the Mountains, away from humans… That sounds nice, doesn’t it?” 

Finally, Baekhyun met his gaze- doing his best not to openly acknowledge the emotion he found in Chanyeol’s wide, green eyes- offering him a small, secretive smile, and nodding his head before doing his best to deescalate the situation- if only for Chanyeol to save face, and, hopefully, avoid an imminent break-down. 

He wasn’t entirely sure there was any one ‘ _right,’_ way, to reveal to one’s bond-mate that they’d soon need a _nest_. 

The shift in demeanor, from that point onwards, was almost instantaneous- and Baekhyun just _barely_ resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the display, alongside the already rising over-protectiveness- teasing him, playfully, until he could relax. 

“I haven’t suddenly become vulnerable. Though currently, I’m maintaining this form, the fact still remains that this is _not_ my form. You’d do well to remember that,” He chastised, shaking his head in apparent disbelief. “You’re purposefully directing our route to allow us to stop at any inn we reasonably can, along the way. I’m telling you, Chanyeol, it’s not necessary.” 

“I know…” Chanyeol murmured, weakly, deflating- and Baekhyun almost felt bad. _Almost,_ but not quite. 

“I just… Why can’t you let me take care of you?” 

Baekhyun breathed out a long sigh, smiling fondly. “We’ll be nearing the colder parts of Tamriel in a few days time,” He began, instead, taking Chanyeol’s answering silence as incentive to continue. “I’d prefer to get a few more nights together outdoors, before the temperature gets too low.” 

Chanyeol smiled, “I see, you want to sleep underneath the stars with me? That’s quite romantic.” 

Baekhyun snorted aloud, a chuckle following suit at the affronted expression the sound earned him. 

“I’m telling you that I want to fuck outside a few more times before having to worry about freezing to death, Chanyeol.” A minute pause, “Plus, I can’t scream in an inn, or make _you_ scream at an inn. You know how that ended up, last time.” 

“I… Oh…” Chanyeol replied, eloquently, taken aback by the shameless admission- but had Baekhyun ever _really_ been anything other? 

In any case, his reasoning proved to be sufficient- they set up camp again that same night. Immediately, Baekhyun felt more at ease than he had in the days which had passed, reclined in their tent- sprawled out over the furs- dozing as he waited for Chanyeol to join him. 

The rest of their journey passed rather uneventfully- Chanyeol going out of his way to both hunt, and cook, for both of him- and Baekhyun taking every conceivable opportunity to express his affection in the most literal, intimate way. At some point, Chanyeol asked if it was a hormonal thing- pouting when Baekhyun had just laughed aloud- finally explaining, after he gathered himself again. 

“Human females experience pregnancy. Dovah, who are as changeable as a flame… Do not.” 

Chanyeol hadn’t at all understood what he’d meant in saying that- but then... Baekhyun said a lot of things that went over his head- it wasn’t of grave importance, in any case. 

Being met with extended silence, Baekhyun sighed softly, reaching out to tousle his hair, smiling when he leaned into his touch, burying his face into his palm, and nosing down along his wrist. 

“My sex-drive and imagination are just over-active. Does that answer your question?” 

Chanyeol hummed noncommittally. 

“Is that a problem?” He tried, cautiously, eyes searching, swallowing dryly when Chanyeol’s eyes opened- gaze sharp, intense. Baekhyun often forgot just what kind of effect he could have on him, whenever he so felt inclined. Whenever he felt particularly daring. 

“That’s the opposite of a problem,” He hummed- before ducking down to kiss him, Baekhyun’s legs falling open when Chanyeol made to situate himself between them. 


	2. EPILOGUE

While he couldn’t quite discern, at that moment in time, what exactly he’d expected… It wasn’t this. It _certainly_ wasn’t this. For never, even in all of his hundreds of years, would he ever have voluntarily subjected someone else to _this._ This.. Agonizing pain. The ceaseless tears. 

Sweat beaded at Baekhyun’s temple, and his eyes were clenched shut in concentration- clutching onto Chanyeol’s wrist like a vise, with his opposite hand curled into the soft furs laid out beneath him. Beside him, chanyeol could only watch, helplessly- all whilst hoping his presence alone was easing the stress, to some degree, however insubstantial. 

It was all he could do, in reality- even as one, even with their souls woven together, Chanyeol couldn’t possibly bear the brunt of the physical pain for him- could only empathize, to help alleviate the mental exertion and emotional distress. 

Baekhyun couldn’t put a voice to it, but it was helping- it definitely was helping. Through the link of their minds, he did his best to convey as much- alongside what he, perhaps didn’t need, but wanted from Chanyeol all the same. 

Chanyeol was quick to oblige him- laying down, flush against his side, and guiding his face to his neck- his own jaw clenching when the other could only sob into it- clutching onto him like a lifeline. 

He brought his unoccupied hand down to rub at his stomach- slightly rounded, beneath his his palm- in slow, gentle circles, softly hushing and encouraging him to breathe in through his nose, and out again through his mouth. 

What Baekhyun had referred to as the first incubation term, had been shockingly short- stomach never having increased much in size at all- only further adding to the confusion as to why, exactly, he was in so much _pain._

Ultimately, to say he was unprepared, was a _huge_ understatement; they both were. Both hadn’t anticipated it to be _this_ difficult. 

But fortunately, having Chanyeol at his side, just holding him, hushing him gently, provided him with enough of a distraction to make it through the worst of it- with the worst of it, quite fortunately, being the shortest part of the process. After it passed, Baekhyun could quite clearly recall why he’d never remembered it- remembered this- causing so much pain for his past relatives; once the hardest part was over, the rest of the process was allowed to carry on without much of a hitch. In accordance with the lack of outward physical growth, and the short frame of time which had passed since they’d made the initial discovery that hatchlings would soon be on the way, the eggs were no larger than a human fist on average. One or two smaller, with one significantly larger than the rest- predictably, the largest one had _also_ been the first one to come- hence the extreme, albeit momentary, pain. 

It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t sweet- it was messy, and almost obscene, if not for the nature of what was occurring- slick coating his thighs and ass, soaking through the furs- but thankfully absent of blood, clearly visible in that it was just clear, sticky fluid- thicker than what was normal, but he could only assume there was a reason for that. It left him sore, and exhausted- but so, _so,_ happy. Heart so full of love, and joy, and he was crying for a reason he couldn’t even discern- sobbing out a laugh when Chanyeol fussed over him- eyebrows drawn together in concern. 

“What’s wrong? Why are you… Does something hurt? Baekhyun? _Baekhyun_?” It would have been humorous, if not for the evident panic, and so Baekhyun offered him a quick shake of his head- taking a few deep breaths, sniffling, and wiping at his eyes with the corner of the blanket still on top of him- keeping him warm throughout, and after, the entirety of the laying process. 

“No, I’m… I’m good,” He nodded, offering him a wobbly smile. 

“Then… Why are you crying?” Chanyeol tried, eyes searching. 

“I… I don’t _know_ ,” Baekhyun choked out- emotions getting the best of him, and not without good reason. 

After a careful cleanup- Baekhyun gingerly washing himself off and cleaning and drying the eggs, with Chanyeol taking care of the bedding and what would come to be their makeshift nest, composed of piles of small, uneven, miscellaneous animal pelts and wools, situated at the hearth of their new homestead, where the fire would never be left unlit, nor allowed to burn low- they placed each egg down, side by side- not touching, but all spread out evenly. They’d need to be rotated around the clock, to ensure no egg was left too far from the flame, or for too long. 

There before them, sat five, scaled eggs, all of varying sizes- Chanyeol musing to himself that the _impossible_ had found him once more. The shells were all a mixture of blacks and whites- none truly indicative of the appearance or patterns of the dragonlings beneath them. 

It was equally as nerve wracking, as it was thrilling- something able to bring so much joy, but also, so much fear; even after each living as long as they had, this was completely new to them both- so, _so,_ entirely out of their depths. 

But… 

Chanyeol and Baekhyun both shared a long, meaningful gaze, blue eyes staring into green, before Chanyeol drew him closer to wrap Baekhyun up in his embrace- both staring down into the nest of unhatched dragonlings _… Their nest_ of unhatched dragonlings. 

They’d figure things out as they came. As long as they had one another, as long as they were whole, _they would be okay._


End file.
